When I saw John Edward
at the Westbury Theatre,
I was not sold at all.
If spirits walked around us,
wanting to tell us
that they were here,
that they had a message waiting,
then why talk to him?
Don’t ghosts love electricity?
Could flickering lights mean
that they were standing close,
whispering in an ear
It wasn’t love, exactly,
but Valium, and I
truly loved everything
and shouted it to all
the world: I love
telephone poles and
parked cars and
I am a ripple of water
Further and further outward
Moving gracefully, slowly
Steadily I wade through
Back in my element
You are the graph, I am the social norm.
I am interested in making change as much as I am
an enemy of so-called common sense. I approve of keeping our rubbish in the appropriate places.
Show people they are doing something wrong
and they will thank you or hate you. Common sense leads the sheep astray or in lockstep
with those jack-booted thugs and their greenhouse
gas emissions. Information is not enough.
Were what I lived for.
The hiss of school buses was
Replaced by the high pitched scrape
Of snow plows,
As I watched from the window
Looks everywhere. Smile frowns.
They don’t know what to think of her dark brown skin.
Is something unknown? Over here she’s different: she stands
Out. They don’t want to be friendly with her or let
Her in because she doesn’t look like them.
She’s tall…dark as a desolate jaguar.
She might hurt us or take our belongings.
Always skeptical; it’s like she’s not a human being.
I touched my red swollen lips.
How they blistered and burned,
like walking barefoot in a Macy’s parking lot.
I smeared my lips
with a cool red chapstick.
More and more
until they were a bright cherry red.
I licked my lips,
hmm, strawberry candy!
Red is god’s gift.
My favorite pit bull Clarence
His savage sharp teeth
Protrude from his drooling mouth
Mimicking a Lion in starved rage
We go on a pleasant stroll
Over green hills and through
Valleys of yellow, laughing lilies
Except for being a little heavier
The air feels mostly the same,
calling for sweatshirts instead of t-shirts.
I walk up the hill
to the red wood siding house
that once moved its driveway
Jack Daniels speaks to the broken hearted girl with bright blue eyes and natural red hair—
Face as empty as an alcoholic’s shot glass.
She’s watching, waiting for the bartender to fill her glass to the brim,
Willing to pay him extra for a couple free drinks—
Not with the money she doesn’t have but with
The lips she knows how to use,
The thong she knows how to pull aside, and the