change the locks

kicks off his corduroy
trousers
telephone squeezed
between ear and a shoulder
cigarette succumbs to ashes
and then nothing
pees on her flowers
the ones he just bought
at the corner store
with toilet paper
cigarettes
and a pen to write
goodbye
on the roll of toilet paper
you piece of shit
goodbye
one shit to the other
he walks out the door
in boxer shorts
sandals
cigarettes
blue socks left behind
in the heap
corduroy trousers
telephone off the hook
all of the shit he reckoned
she'd throw away
anyway
hitches a ride
in a ford pick-up
hardly any clothes
by a guy
with hardly any teeth
but christ
could this guy ever whistle dixie
the sun set
in the rear view mirror
just as he had come to see
his life set
every time his reflection
blankly stared back at him
as if to ask
what the fuck are you looking at
nothing behind
little more ahead
in all likelihood
it's another day in paradise
it's par for the course
for the aging boy
his mama always swore
was destined for greatness