Holiday (Or: Standing on the corner of Western and Wall after hanging up on You)

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this is where We meet in

my mind-the flipbook folly of flipflops

and glass bottle mountaintops and

 

this is where You hide in

my heart-among the sweet salt

of Missing You and Meeting You and

Mangling You and

 

this is where I sleep til I’m safe.

shock me, stranger. my faith is in there (somewhere) in

the back black corners of American sewage

 

noel and I slept through the static.

beautiful morning, wasn’t it?

 

 

A breath between two buildings

As I squeeze myself between

Them,

My taste buds blossom

With dusty cement.

I stand quietly,

Waiting for the tectonic plates

To shift

Two centimeters per year,

And make the structures meet.

I want to know what it’s like

To be in two places

At once.

A complete eclipse

Of morals and motherly

Love,

And what they meant to me.

Behold, the Earth’s own gravity

Will crush us down

Like aluminum cans

Eventually.

But Icarus tried to fly,

And escape from the pull

Of Gaia’s

Envy

And fell to his death

As a young man,

Screaming.

While we report our

Neighbors

To the white-washed

Secret police

Because their lawn

Is overgrown.

I can hear the rain outside,

Falling.

Gladly found in alley shoes,

I strung my body out

Behind a dumpster filled

With sludge from a failing Chinese

Restaurant.

I never made it in there

To try their famous rice and pork

Which was supposed to still

Be smiling.

Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have liked it

Very much at first…

 

While sweating and

Frustrating

A table of mothers

Who stare so silently,

I walk away to work some more,

When dawn,

Lighting on me like

God’s favorite dove,

A vision of peace,

I see myself in October

And smile,

Heartbeat growing silent.

I see myself and that’s October.

I know her.

When jackets and coffee

Are the warmest hug

I receive,

And I can bury my nose in books.

A part of me did not wake up

Today.

He’s still awake,

Several hours behind,

Like a half of my mind

Fell asleep

And left the other behind,

Watching the clock tick

And talking to the sunrise.

That person keeps his hands

From shaking,

And his thoughts all filed,

Ordered alphabetically.

What woke up this morning

All monochromatic

And confused

Is thinking of his dreams,

How he reached through a door

To the other side

And, grasping, left

His better half outside.

Then meditates

To keep his mouth shut.

Recipes for building trust,

Ingredients and steps,

Chronologically chronicled

For each and every lustful

Thought and time

I longed for being good.

Sudden changes in smiles

And charm

Are foreseen, planned for, and cured

By my books

Full of fingered, frayed, and faithful

Lists.

How to:

Be human.

Yesterday’s news
Surprised me today
As I sat on a low wall
By several elementary schools.
Tossing unlit cigarettes
Into a potted plant
As the school children
Held up an image of lungs
And jeered me to pieces.
I pulled on a jacket
In Celsius weather
But the sleeves had been caught
Between some leathered
Old man and his teeth
All holey and strange.
The children got Frightened, and
The teacher taught of bombs
Unexploded on the eastern shore.
And readings adored
By people who sold
Books door to door.

Do you ever get tired?

Have you ever admired

The gifts that others got

To shut down all their thoughts

And fade under the sheets?

I have.

I do,

Like marriage to an alarm clock

Always buzzing,

Never making breakfast

Or raising the kids.

She’s all inside my head.

And yet again the but what gives?

When time has stopped and popped hello?

Sometimes I want to yes? okay.

And often now I’ve said too no.

So love me please, I might just go,

I’ve done my best, and you do know?