The saints say hop
on my shelf. The saints say  

the Mississippi is a street that feels
like America. The saints say you wake up 

sweating with aftershocks of stranger
anxiety and an unkempt garden. 

The saints say this feels
like the America everyone 

wants but no one is from. The
saints ask what other 

animal feels embarrassed? The poodle
tied to the fire hydrant? The cat 

in the bag? The saints say my
friends are mapping the X 

where men grow. The saints say this is the second
time I’ve eavesdropped on a happy birthday. The saints 

say you can’t find them. The saints
say you eat what you can find. 

The saints say natural disaster is
a good topic. The saints 

say to straighten up at your local
dive bar. The saints say every child denied 

a quarter for the spring horse ends
up here. The saints say this is magic.