low grade

low grade fever,
fists with the pinkies extended,
the smell of urine,
my mother's frown.

the death of outrage was followed
by the demise of celebrity
which was followed by the end of social ruin.
experience never had a chance.

when anger and sorrow go,
there won't be but six of us left
to prop up the remains,
and i'll be bouncing from the back bumper.