John Hoppenthaler


“She likes the big Bambú!” He’s grunting & singing 

off-key like an idiot frat boy, shit-eating grin
on his arrogant George Walker Bush-looking face,
& Oh, I do, I really do, but not the over-sized

shroud of cigarette paper into which he’s rolling
inferior weed & not what he was getting at
with the double entendre, the largely
exaggerated dong lurking nearby, slinking around

there inside his baggy, relaxed-fit shorts.
I’ve remembered my grandparents’ backyard, green