I am selling you the skunk with his little garden
of vegetable scraps and cereal boxes in my driveway.
I’m selling the woodchuck rising from his lifeless bulk
to seek forgiveness along the shoulder outside my house.
I’m selling the branch with the blue jays and squirrels
for a little peace and quiet. I will move to the basement
and sit in the dark as far away as I can.
I will move to the city and fall asleep
to the muffled chatter of bicycle thieves and money. . . .