Productions of Conformity

There is a dog - something
like - but not quite - that is not
a dog
staring at him
from across the street.

Opposite
domiciles of the broke -
a long, low, line
of bricks; a factory
of conforming society
frowns at, reminds
of all that he despises -
a high school proud
of its production
of machined perfection.

And low along the low
brick
runs a cold grey
its length - a foundation
cementing conformity
to an island - but
for one spot.

A mis-
placed brick
here - another there -
and another
down
... ... ... below
- interspersed - with gutter
valve and concrete.

The eyes of the old
bag of Bones who once
watched the red tail wheel
and dance a mile high
in the Vermont sky
now, unglassed, sees
a Jack Russell
in the drainage
spigot, brick, and concrete
across the street.

_{(Apr 5, 2011 @ 17:21)}