Theo

Stolen shopping carts full of stolen mail
give way to green patches of driveway trees against an i-5 sky made paler through my brown shades.
You can make it to the desert in 30 minutes on a Sunday,
doing poems the way people do crosswords, I say,
as I ash perfectly out the passenger window
Of my little brothers boxy car,
Demonstrating , how some other big brothers might do,
the swish of a basketball into its basket.
Retreating into my nostrils for safety against the uneven pavement of
The illegal speedometer of my smiling brother
who is Too Darkly Goggled to read the LED signs urging him to slow down