Family Vacation in the Scorches of Heat and Drunk Sincerity

The night flashed with lightning across a dead moon.

Before the alarm clock’s scream
children had already awoke.
Toys and cartoons lead the way.

Just like the time alcohol brought your spouse out from hiding.
Maybe it was St. Patrick’s Day or Cinco de Mayo or
Dyngus Day or New Year’s Eve, but it happened.

Not the way your grandparents experienced it,
not the way animals have instinct although

you’ve dreamt about your ancestors getting mammals drunk.

No U-Turn on this highway.
Yield to your dreams for the sake of others’ plans
and punch life’s timecard on schedule.

Day after day we all get shit for what we’ve said and done.
Like the time I left my gun at the side of a peppermint field and
stumbled through the age of growing up.

The lazy bones sat with filterless cigarettes and jugs of homemade wine.
They offered their outdated advice and said phrases similar to,

“What’s the price of rice in China got to do with American supermarkets?”

We fell down, assumed the fetal dance and poured gasoline into flowerbeds.
The aroma hissed like rusted radiators foaming when Death Valley
sucked life from technology.