Here you can either have a shot at happiness

or eat at the corner Subway restaurant

You can either drive everywhere

or never leave home

You can have a street with a normal spelling

or you can live where I do

You sit in the car

brooding over repressed excretions

When the light turns green

you move like a rabbit

and with your car

ending up running over the rabbit

whose very fear you aspired to—

nice

Mom offers you the Halloween candy

of the trick-or-treaters who never came—

who never come

Dad buries the rabbit

in the cesspool

Flattered—the cesspool buries dad

in the rabbit

Here is the birthplace

of a man who sang the body electric

Irony is wasted when you

paint his words

on the walls of the local mall—

his namesake—

and don’t even laugh

You smell like something

something that smells like you

But you’re not sure

whether to hold your nose

or nose into the hold

that keeps you from leaving the street—

the street without a normal spelling