by Frankie Metro
under the occidental,
protective stare
coming from a hole
that utility giants
left for water lines
& undocumented spy reports,
I know where the exact run
off from the rain gutters
makes noise,
while slumping
against the chicken wire-
displaced Austin
novelists drown out
the unusually hot summers
soaked in Triple Sec
& overpriced, donated
1/2 bottles of tequila.
They preach california
is not the progressive
deluge they make themselves
out to be.
“Everyone looks at you
as if yr a pedo.
They see the cigarette in yr hand.”