#1
crunch these guts from one
to two, to three for a better body
or a slimmer stomach and four
if you want an alien to go
"Braaaaaaaaaaah!" We'll let our
faces get to our head,
and in our
braaaaaaaaaaaaaains (imaginations!)--
a neighborhood, where
you and I are parents in a home
with a kid whose name begins with
a "Ra" or a "Kuh" sound (depending on gender).
He'll (or she'll) have a hole
with awful words written inside,
from the secret gangs that
sleep inside of her (his) chest, and he'll (she'll)
blame one of us for our vanity
or the name we've given it.

i named her for the girl i used to love
she named him for the boy that only ever gave her the right jewelry.
we should wait,
wait wait wait, for the shadow,
or a bend in the road, or the ice to stick
or the snow to melt. just wait wait wait---
(new thoughts)

she SCREAMS SOMETIMES ABOUT
how ducks are illogical! I go "what?" AND SHE
SAYS SOMETHING ABOUT DUCKS IN A BOAT.

Other times, we'll imagine our bedroom
with no children or friends, and we'll lay
like stubborn cats, poised with our claws
up and out. She's on my pillow, with her
soft skin and day-glow skull. We'll be naked
or something close to that, and I'll have in my
head around thirty ways to kill her
when she falls asleep.

In our honesty, we shed our whatever,
we are solid things, that grow and grow
until that mushroom we ate no longer works.
GOLDEN TOUCH, WE HAVE NOTHING//
left to give, in a pool, in a cupboard, behind
a fence or a door. Vultures for a sick culture,
drinking coffee at the dinner table, speaking
sugar cubes for our salty lives, and we will
regret everything.
www.facebook.com/longlostcomic