There are probably 14 little stickies on my dish soap bottle right now. Al in little clusters here and there, most of them around the top shoulders by the bottle’s squeeze top.
You know, those little stickers that come on apples, tomatoes, bananas….
My fortune was a tawny boy who sang himself to sleep. He ran behind his father to the market, brought us dripping bags of olives bulging bigger than his cheeks. One buckle on his left shoe dangled trailing in the filth, and so I used to scold and make him wipe the floor. Isn’t it funny that I want to find his shoe? I can’t. I can’t. And I can’t find him in t […]
a ripe banana bleeds out on the hardware aisle cleanup on thirteen From my red Rascal I can watch the young men lag, leave them in my dust. celery so green against black Hershey wrappers, someone changed her mind On her purple thong the eyes of old men linger. Electric cart turns. You wanted romance: wine and fire and new lawn chairs. Walmart it is, […]
They gave me time to leave, an extra decade off of living just to find myself zeroed out clawing at the walls, polluting reservoirs. I’m the problem now. They don’t say it but they know it. I’m asbestos. I’m the best of all the TV reruns, common core cream, look, I’m the end of magazines. I suck off Coke machines. I’m hooked on colored screens, and I am laug […]