(Belated) Elegy For Brautigan

A woman from Tacoma
screams your name
while having drunken sex

with a stranger.
The stolen painting hangs
in the house next door.

Trout dapple the Pacific Northwest
like the silver sound
of Chekov’s phone ringing.

It’s a little early to think about dinner.

The stuff your mother threw out
would be worth a lot of money now.