“Anger Management”
A real padre is tonight into night checking around,
the first with his serve of low fresh bait.
His mother is a pet who flips the tacos he catches,
to an hour made he says.
How they see the exit and stay for house at home.
There’s a Baja Checkerboard,
dad has nothing to push for his reel.
Kings can jump,
and he’s slow to die against a golden palm.
He clicks numbers, rolls with a blade.
Hell has become white, but he shoots coffee,
leers into casual news on a lover’s paper.
Together he becomes for tonight,
along the pool-haven by Sun Village.
Away from his call for a free car,
as he begins with his opposition to Giant Chess.
Spur to wheel, making gross heaven.
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