Petty

Petty is as petty does,
and petty rules the land and sea.

Petty is as petty does,
does it all in little mincing bites.

Petty can’t be bothered to go full vampire —
prefers to play mosquito, yearns to be a gnat.

Petty can’t be bothered to search its soul —
prefers to read its own Cliff Notes.

Petty opens its heart
to the side eye, the shade, the snicker.

Petty feels OK
in single broken heartbeat intervals, 

then leaves a trail of mild destruction
behind it, like kid footsteps in the cement

of a national monument, discovered 
only upon the occasion of ribbon cutting,

too late to smooth it out and make it 
feel OK again.  

Petty is as petty does.
Petty does quite well;

one mansion in the hills, one on the beach,
a penthouse in the city, 

a foothold in your mouth,
a homestead in your attitude.