#poetry – Michael Sean Erickson

Who So Toils

Sits in his rain scented square.

He kicks up dust with his boot heels.

I watch the zigzagging contrails slice up the dark, blue sky with growing alarm.

My gypsy grandmother pokes through the rear passenger window.

Fiery nuptials in a throw.

The look in his eye suggests that he is on to me.

Kim Kardashian’s DeLorean skims over the frosted waves.

I catch her eye, but then she looks away.

Be still, and she will kiss you.

I am seated beside a dictator in a diaper.