lest i

i left the gun on the counter
lest i shoot off my mouth

kept the cellphone off
in case i call myself names

yes, that was me,
looking over the alley fence

killroy style,

seeing a parade pass by
between 2 brick walls
obstructed with banged, leaky dumpsters,

so many folks waving flags,
shaking hands,

my fingertips are numb
from squeezing the splinters
from the guitar callouses
i built up practicing
"michael row the boat ashore",

the confetti and empty soda cups
obscure the cracks in the sidewalk,

my hands are folded
lest i run this boat aground.