Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

two hundred-three dollars mid-august
cried for luck this bourbon contribution
of next steps, some rings, baby names
& the western slope which is burning
and the one plays it out in lonely wind
for taciturn gods in full opera voice
just back from gathering folks
in stoic imaginations of the neighbors
police calls through rainy sundays
who makes this ratio of yin and yang
five years and misplaced address book
for our only meetingplace is these events
thunderless when you are entertainers
we hold the fire back for you to cross