Silver-Wing Caddy

Blew his eardrum on
a shake’n bake, slap on the back run,
Pythagoras zooming by in his
souped-up, silver-wing Caddy.

Little Lotta in stay-puff,
blue plaid baggies
cheering,
as the earth slow-rolled off its dime-store orbit
like a limp egg dancing between rushing gutter balls.

He dressed her up,
made old feel new again.
Recent sins ringing
scorched mandolin ears
like church bells clanging
over a valley of agnostic sheep.