Jumping the Gun
On
the
scratch line
listening
for starter pistol
fire, my eyes roam past camellia
bushes blooming magenta glory: luscious, frail
they invite vagrant homeowners
to celebrate sleep
on dirt floors
or tents
day
in
night
out
waiting
for landlords
to open locked doors
offer green lawn camp sights facing
two-bedroom rentals or small studios with kitchens
stoke wishes…teasing indigents
beyond their what if
notions, pipe
dreams, and
false
hope.
