Bare-Boned
Where my mouth used to be: coins Bus driver’s maniac swerving Making them fall out into the aisle. “Currency”is the word used to Describe the present time: the Currency of seeing bare-boned Trees up ahead and then behind means I am being followed. Trees Uproot as we speak, nickels and Pennies falling out, chipping my teeth. Golddigger Kitchen sink sounds like a homily Golddigger washes her coins Spitting and scrubbing and shining And praising the flowing waterfall In the back of her mind that does not Have any intention of running dry. Windchime There is a windchime in the front of my brain and it swirls and sings When your words full of oxygen and good intentions blow past me. It is made of recycled vowels, plastic pieces from your seatbelt buckle, A set of old speakers and the look you give me on all your decently decent days. Keys Your hands: keys Fidgeting At all of the locked compartments Of my beginner’s body. Try the right one again. Attraction My life: Paris, France, And you are the Eiffel You are the You You Eiffel Tower Me, my tourist body And suddenly, I’m Off the map. Tree Here is what happened: You looked at me. Said nothing. Nodded. Here is what I wanted to happen: You looked at me, wrapped your four limbs around my tree of a body, weathered me down and sang me your poetry, accompanied by my off-beat finger snaps and possibly a harmonica. Lying Lying in bed-- To you and to myself. We have believed Everything. Black And white lies, Tongue-tied, tye-dyed Lies that slide underneath Your dresser and hibernate Year-round. Comments are closed.
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Original CompositionsFiction, poetry, and all that good stuff . . .
November 2016
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