Hero
When I came out of the hole
There was no belt buckle,
Arguments or rest stops
That could save me
Nothing but soggy fries
Fallen from the carton
Wedged into the seat cushion
No signs of the dreams that
Made me feel dizzy
It seemed that the wasps
Prodding my belly had
Escaped along with my
Father, mother, sister
Who had left me alone
To stare at the tinted mirror
To see what remained of
My face
I remembered something about
The precipice.
A plateau had to be climbed first
To snatch the sun away from the
Toasty smoldering desert
I felt sweaty and stuck to the seat
Like lifesavers candies melted
To the packaging,
They could barely save themselves
I pushed the coat off my back
Covering me as I was passed out
On our way to somewhere in New Mexico
Now we were stopped at a Tex-Mex joint
By the road
And I had three yellow jackets
Hugging the side of my blood stained stomach
They were squished dead
I must have been perplexed by my victory
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
Death and The Enemy at the Ice Cream Truck??!!
Death and the Enemy
When the ice cream man rang his not so ominous bell
We came scurrying like little ravenous thieves. We
Did not worry about the finality of endings, just that
Our ice cream would melt before we finished it,
Or that the local bully would knock it from our hands
And onto the floor by our feet. He would laugh and
Point as we sobbed as if we’d lost our best friend or
A member of our family in a war to some crimson enemy,
We would not forget how he shoved us and we skinned our
Our skinny knees, yet we would recover. In adulthood, there
Are no bells to keep track of who will be left behind, no machine-
Gun, ticking time bomb or three wishes will speed their return
Little pebble flashes of memory will remind us that their chimes
Once faint and indiscernible are firecrackers going off inside of us.
And it is best that we continue to run when we hear sounds that are
Familiar to us, once again, and leave the musical change rattling in
Our pants pockets to chance,
When the ice cream man rang his not so ominous bell
We came scurrying like little ravenous thieves. We
Did not worry about the finality of endings, just that
Our ice cream would melt before we finished it,
Or that the local bully would knock it from our hands
And onto the floor by our feet. He would laugh and
Point as we sobbed as if we’d lost our best friend or
A member of our family in a war to some crimson enemy,
We would not forget how he shoved us and we skinned our
Our skinny knees, yet we would recover. In adulthood, there
Are no bells to keep track of who will be left behind, no machine-
Gun, ticking time bomb or three wishes will speed their return
Little pebble flashes of memory will remind us that their chimes
Once faint and indiscernible are firecrackers going off inside of us.
And it is best that we continue to run when we hear sounds that are
Familiar to us, once again, and leave the musical change rattling in
Our pants pockets to chance,
Pity a Ghost...
The After Life
The ghost carried me to the television
It was time for the morning news
Some sick bastard killed a young boy
And his pet bunny rabbits
I cried, being a ghost must be such a
Lonely mess.
The ghost carried me to the television
It was time for the morning news
Some sick bastard killed a young boy
And his pet bunny rabbits
I cried, being a ghost must be such a
Lonely mess.
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