The weather’s nice but my neighbor’s electric truck
is as grey & stealthy as a sharp-edged cloud. Out
he climbs in a brown top & black cargo pants,
looking somewhat military. My sunbathing toes,
propped on a bench, wiggle to him. I could make
my neighbor worship them while he’s still in his law-
enforcement drag, have us both sigh, oh yummy.
Where’s your accent from, my Nike-clad, small-
footed neighbor would ask & immediately radio
his icy buddies to come, come take me away.
Stop, ladies! I would shout. I am a citizen
of this country. I fire words into the setting sun,
projectiles in impish, lawless colors, while in
my dark brain a poor guy’s truck goes ablaze.