Last Ten

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Watching these teens roll by
in their Heelys and what hits me
ain’t just youth, but the unknown
and a little something to get us lit
worse than dad last Summer–
in the middle of the pool, drunk
with his shotgun pointed into the mist—
firing, for all we know,
into the dew itself to watch it drown.
Dad said the shot was for a Canadian goose
but hell, what’s hidden beneath us
right under our feet, here in this swamp?
It ain’t fucking wheels.

Have birthday
cake right
on the kitchen
counter I would

dearly
love to

meet you
again

In a loop

having
birthday
cake.

The time
lapse thing
we do

Sped up
escalators

Stone faces

I always
take
the stairs
in the light rail

two at
a time

completely
destroyed

always
destroyed

You
a little
endless

picture
perfect
monosyllabic.

I’m jungle

Asian

In the
middle
of a
battle

& a perfect
beat on

The radio,

what touches
& dips
The ribcage,

changes the
soft center
of gravity

of our
understanding

& nothing kills
me more
like

a moment
like this.

It’s like
not wanting
to leave

The car.