Sammy The Shaman

Here we are behind the old garage
on the edge of town at the edge of the woods
woods deep as when we were kids

and Vince is pissing against the gutter spout
and Thick is carving strikes with a key into a birch
and Sammy squatting in the middle of us all

tracing circles in loose gravel
with the butt of his beer bottle raises his chin
to the woods and says hey look at this moon

not round or cutting like in open sky
no shape at all behind the tree line
just white white light

like dark behind us flung its bent swollen knuckles
and clocked us each across the back of our heads
look at this moon assholes he says.