slate sky gravel drive
grime & grit stains month old snow
shitty house paint flaking
porch boards wonky bowing busted collapsing
windows rattle at the slightest breeze cold
slithers in thru cracks & beneath the eaves
pleather couch chipping peeling slouches
under the weight of rodney's fat ass
as he leans over the glass coffee table
rips the tar sludged bong coughs
for a good thirty seconds squints
at me with bloodshot eyes shit-
eating grin shakes his head & laughs
at the hole in my shirt exposing
my belly button
— Shane Ingan is from Indiana and lives in Detroit. Sometime soon, he will be releasing the first volume of a six-volume book of poetry titled Vanity.