8 19 24 the sun is gone
The sun is gone
and I look
at the menacing face
of a plastic owl
on the ferry poop deck
as we coast
into my small island
that is almost
exactly the same size
as Manhatten
but unlike the big apple
there isn’t that
many maggots here
but thankfully
there appears to be just enough
to devour all of our
rotten meat.
