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.