My name for you is Duke because you remind me of John Wayne, with your face pebbled by years of smoking, your plaid button-up shirts, your cowboy hats. You have two identical Ford Custom 150s, usually parked front-to-back on Benny Ave., each piled with various pieces of junk: rusting dishwashers, tricycles, armchairs, coin collections. I wonder where you find this stuff, and where you are taking it. Do you live alone in one of the apartment buildings across from the park? Do you have a cat? It takes me 3 months just to get you to smile.

(inspiration, although i can’t figure out how to sign up, for this is culled from here.)