Thumbing Our Paws
Location
The gas station clerk gave us milk (like a mother).
Donuts were seventy cents each, but we stole them.
Seventy is a number with slim, bony hips.
We tightened our belts for sixty.
Our abridged intestines creaked collectively.
Scrappy ears like lapdogs.
Clumsily scrathed heads.
Us two.
Fed.