The naked man walking
along the 112 lane highway
draws stares from the flow
of tweets and caffeinated apps.
The ball of lint balanced
on the end of his penis
seems to be for reassurance,
to let the refugee know
that he’ll have a lover
whoever wins the war,
that no one can touch
his sweet spot the way
lint caresses, and stays put.
Carl Mayfield’s most recent chapbook is High Desert Cameos. His poems have been published within his lifetime, which still shocks him a little, having no desire for people to look at him.
In Between Hangovers 