garden bar 1.2.18

The year begins
With the ebb and flow
Of a headache.
I keep watching people from the bleachers
And glance away when they spot me spying.
A woman whose butt I admired
As she walked away has returned,
Seeking a seat in the same bleachers
I’m sitting at. (I couldn’t help it,
It was the jeans. It’s always the jeans.)
Every woman is wearing riding boots,
Well dressed equestrianesses.
Some guy looks like my friend Ryan King
If he had a Hitler mustache.
I should make sure it’s not him.