Honourable mention in the 1st Jackpine Sonnet Contest.

Mom bought the wrong diameter overflow tube
so we'll miss the municipal toilet rebate again,
but she's just re-wickered the Tiki torches
and it's one of those oxygenic nights
that sap the wind from our fingers and Dad
until he falls asleep with the CBC.

June's pissed on the Monday flyers so birds mine
the Playboy stack beside my air conditioner
to furnish nests: white shit strewn down my sister's window
and a whale stirs somewhere in my conscience.

The new neighbours have Oriental features,
but carry Kenyan passports and speak French,
Dad grins, burns junk mail in the barbecue,
he says we're the third family to own this lawn mower.