Reno Gardens

Today is giving me heavy boots,
as lazy rivers of beer wind
sibilant paths through the dirt
underfoot.

Five pairs of fingers stopper
five pairs of ears, as we brace
for the third cannonfire, signifying
the end of our turmoil, and theirs,

and on the lion’s third roar,
we start the record and finish our drinks,
tip-toe through the tile floor minefield
of Nurofen tablets. Side effects include

death. But hey, he was my sun-eyed boy—
sorry, my cyanide boy—just, you know,
hanging around. It’s time to leave the terminal
illnesses better than we found them.