September Pig

Pig stopped cold

On a sunset road.

Front feet impossibly,


Tightly together.

On two little pegs

The weight of the world.

Stopped cold and thinking

Between two worn-smooth

Tire lines.

Skeeter’s truck’ll go

Right over this 




Pondering all our hopes 

And regrets.

“I should go back,”

“I shouldn’t have said that,”

“No, you’re right,

I’m nothing to look at,

But someone’s gotta be me.”


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