Realty school found me

the middle of nowhere,

an island institute shifted

about the tax base.

Deduction-happy and audit-free,

no wear on watch or budget

was too plank-like.

Upscale of catch and bail,

delegates milled around

my tropics, then up

scaled a mudskipper

from the out-there.

Now every single creak

sends me netting!

My turnstile was like a multi-story project,

its sidelong creek a development

of deer, high-headed and economical.

Foreclosure had a tough time here;

regulations never on sabbatical,

public education a quickiemart

for closers bound to buy

the farm before they pay, a fire

placed beneath their in & out baskets.

Do lobster tails switch

near a family-sized pot?

What caught me was a shark

with a pop-up suitcase.

Folks, conduct your interviews here.

I was self-assured;

they staged a downhill war;

there was a suit.  Case closed

and pointless given the barge ride

through the settlement of horse sense.

The courts were holding strong

when I commuted—to settle

meant to keep a fishing rod intact.

This has been a terrible reconstruction.

I might never come back.  How I enjoy

to tear a bill and send it sailing.

 
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© 2011 CJ Sage. All rights reserved.