I’ll miss your ass.

“What just my ass?

I’ll get you a replacement.”


Will she speak the words you speak?

Or lull me with your lilt?

Or fuck like you?

Shall she raise her fists as you do?

Or bang heads with me?


“Probably not.”

No, thanks.

I’ll miss your ass.


The Day After Christmas Morn.

up the hill toward the fields.

a man and a boy and a plane.

what does my son carry today?