An Action Afternoon
Harold Thane his drivers license said
They found him alone in the wooden walls
Beholden to a salt shaker, boiled potato, a third cup of tea from the same bag
And from his radio still came the sound of a giant tonality of somebody's dead symphony
On his dresser a note:
"I drink my tea and wait for orange mornings or a spike through my head"
The spike was not through his head
They found him on the tile to the bathroom floor
Ripped, slashed, gutted
Bone, meat, and dirty enamel
He was a poor housekeeper under the sink they found beer and wine bottles, a bag of orange peelings, old newspapers and the sink stank with dishes and stale creamy water
Some ants had come, some roaches
His drivers license had expired and he was a week behind in the rent
As they took him outside
as they carried him through the doorway
The one o'clock in the afternoon ladies of the neighborhood expressed their judgement, criticism, cow-like horror
Horse-like joy
As two roaches clenched beneath the sink and fucked
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