ANOTHER GODDAMN SPRING POEM
A platoon of dandelions crouches in the breeze,
heads frag grenades ready to blow apart.
Across the gummy tar street, neighbors
cook out: a girl from one family
lobs a rock at a girl from the other.
The fathers keep busy rouging their hands
at the propane grill, released
from its tarpaulin prison for the first time
this year. A huddled mass of ants
vibrates on the desiccated corpse
of an orange lollipop, each one
trampling another. They take tiny bites
to console themselves, suffocating
more with each sweetness.