A distress
of ambulances
pass.
Snow like
diphtheria.
She called
love "lead
poisoning,"
left by
the backdoor.
Like cake
in a casket,
she made mud
of my hospitality.
No one has
a dime for
the telephone.
No one holds
the crossing
guard's hand.
No one wants
a knuckle sandwich,
even if they ask for one.