You know it's the first fine day when they all come out

It’s like rain
or
death
in a jungle; pulls the
fungus
and the
ants
and the
scavengers together.

They eat, grown, fuck,
fart, laugh, beguile,
pick their teeth;

today
it’s the disturbed eating ice cream,

shirtless hobos
blue
tattooed,

sallow musicians playing sallow
guitars in the park,

old women riding bicycles
with
dresses on
and no shoes.

Oh, they’ve come out

out!

And all their
madnesses have come along too. The hang-ups,
hold-ups,
pushups, pin-ups,
winter ferment,

homicidal thoughts,
suicidal thoughts,
sociopathic thoughts,
thoughts of charity,
thoughts of love,

and each one looking for a way to do it.
Each one looking for a way out. For a way into the next
season.

They’ve come out
and the rest are forced to mingle.

The bluebird and the aphid dangling,
the clover and the walking
stick,
mothers breast-
feeding babies,
bulldogs breathing the light of air,

war heroes courting bullshit on the fountain
ask for a match,
beg for food, trade jokes,
hold skirmishes,
chess matches,
dog fights,
cock
fights.

Everyone is happy in their own way
even if that means hysteria.

It’s Ok,
the first good day.

It’s needed
like an
enema.