Dear Katy, Texas (2018)
~Ross Murray
You shot off your rocker old man
Some bad day job blown-off!
Playing a young ten-year-old’s game
He was so unhappy he came back to work on his skull
“But my head ain’t right” said a’Boy
Father barreled flounder in obscene obsolescence; In: waiting room.
Country twang, radio ash
(No food)
No ice, tea,
No thing t’drink…
While standing
The thrash fumble of oxidized newsprint
Back picture frame
Photo
Scance scans the séance
A-Glass-Tilt reframed:
In the plastic cover chair his skull cap was cut
shorter to look pretty
Barber free…
He swore he heard in the bulbous light
Deafeningly shrill halogen
Circuit connection:
…Barber for free…
Left…
Barking Derogatory Dilapidation
Off flipped son hand crush
Up-down eye scanned judgement
Magazine ceiling scant
Oxidized Four-Door-ed Honda-Grey
Southern Heat Gale
Muddled gnat ‘bug-flie’
Up high seat:
larynx- light house sea-crashes
“squirt”
Slammed-hand:
But, Father gun
And mother heat-wave-sun
Th’ Allur-ed Red-Eye Vending a’corner
Most Secretive Dirt no foot sounds
Return
Shot
Barber
Arm
Leg
Stomach openings…
White bile spewed
Frothing foam
Tiered tearing away out sideways
Peripheral bawl yelp pleas; ceiling I brain
Out th’ tongue-tied bazaar galleria flea-market
Peeling cement tar:
…a hospice-al!
I can’t help
but think
what young crushed boy-hand will turn,
from his cut skin
cap
He couldn’t fix his head though he did it for him
for free
Grey Car Abscond-Away
“Day ‘is daddy said he’d take’m to a haircut”
So he shot him, Katy
Three times.