I spot him stalking our mailbox
dressed in drab, terrycloth
discern him
shocking the quiet neighbor
with threats of bear sightings
blood-engorged ticks
a tactic he learned in Nam.
Habitually absent at the Town Street Festival
he retreats inside his roach motel
to re-patch old newspaper to the windows,
follow the stock market and inflate his belly.
He wheezes about the drought,
draining the swamp,
and fixing the front porch.
then whines about indigestion
forking down a hunk of salami
leaving a stalk of slimy lettuce,
that the army ants snub
during their pillaged raid
into the shadowed
side, of town.
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