Over Bite (took down to send to New yorker)

The man on the right, ran to the girl on the left, who was out of sight,
that last season was pinched to feel chill and snuggle thrills politely still,
daily fiber-counted poly-wonderous streams of consciousness fly by,
he never wondered aloud what he wanted for breakfast while in bed.

300 Dollar Drama

I got this window in mind,
where designer's kids dabble,
one year they wrote an adventurous melodrama,
they charged $300 a ticket and spent it all on candy and water guns,

I had won a radio station contest,
my prize was a ticket worth $300,
for a summer's minute I considered selling it,
I could have used the extra cash,

the stillness didn't hide behind the darkness very well,
as the curtains rarely hid their purpose when this window was open,
I hadn't figured any of this out yet,
anyways... by intermission I was only concerned with the orange hues cradled outside by dusk,

everyday for a year after the melodrama I lived in the clouds,
I embraced the cumulus enchantment- it still owed me one good chocolate whipped dream,
to close out the year's end I took a train ride throughout the Southwest,
trains help me sweat out any ridiculous excesses of intrigue... a turquoise mirage of beads,

was this year about me or them?
culminating chatter was released after opening the window again,
and years later the kids were all still applauded... they were hailed as child savants,
they all grew up to be idiots.

JaJa Trappings

I thought about it in the evening,
I thought about it the very next morning,
I bought a bottle of Robitussin and drank it to prompt the daylight's sway, 
the harshness of that afternoon's heat dried up any calm reverb,

the trite wanderings of a greedy imagination carried us away,
to that place where they will situate you- into the JaJa realm,
gems sparkled to win the space evacuated by my own bad taste,
corrected lengths waved across the parade to cinch up those loose ends,

I thought about it in the dark,
I thought about it in the light,
I already knew how to be insecure-lost in a summer hammock curl,
now I needed to learn how to play in the heat... how to to be confident and absurd... how to deny myself from any unneccasary hardships sequestered by life... how to win by retreat... 

the corridors peeled off new paintings every other quarter,
and I thought I always wanted to be seen near the wealth,
when all's I really needed was a dozen fuzzy peace making balloons,
we thought about it again that evening one last time... goodbye JaJa land.

It's those thoughts churned out in May,

it's that thing you want to do all day,

we must have forgotten,

that they had monuments raised to peel back the layers of their delicate pride,

but we will never forget,

about those girls who had us so enamored that weekend,

the violence interwoven with their dreams made sense now,

that weekend was dark but not silent,

the kids all shape-shifted past the swings and into oblivion.

Shapeshifting Hysteria

Can you taste the grainy thoughts of shapeshifting hysteria,

high on the bicycle spokes of yesterday’s light,

the kids already knew the ice cream’s time was left to melt,

this spectacular allure of sugar and naps cycle through a century,

traditions of childhood summers reconvened in the halls of retirement homes,

halls made wider than normal for electric scooter derbies held daily,

men collide and chase old skirts like it was the summer of 1945,

they dreamed of us in between cigar fumed poker sessions,

plastic elements fragmented into jittery calculations,

and they were never too young to learn,

they taught us how to operate inside a freebased dream,

and realized that we were born to wind around the bends,

corners bent to eclipse tomorrow's uncharted trends,

what happens when they witness ramifications implode,

can you help them and observe your disgust honorably,

can you pretend not to show disdain for their secrets,

can you learn to forget,

forget to show regret,

to forge the needle that would stitch up the times,

those times where unresolved histories seemed to own the night,

will you allow these subtle familiarities to lull you into warm justification,

alone to be seduced by your own naive compositions,

salt crystals guard the rims of cocktail glasses shelved high,

the usual order of things would be on the brink of catastrophe,

but the unusually high expectations are shrink wrapped tight,

even if the guardians are always close to ignition,

rainy Sundays would still welcome Monday shyly,

their epoch of denial was a monsoon,

bacon grease would need to retire to rejuvenate the realm of time traveling junkies,

and they traveled back to tell the kids about flavor-shaved weapons of ice,

and to teach the others about royalty and titles,

and how we should always call them snow cones,

never shaved ice once the syrups been poured over,

snow cones don’t pretend to be anything they’re not.

Flip-flop Newsletters

Flip-flop newsletters drop swift kicks,

the boys all craved this majestic weather,

the summer peaked and the heat swam the rapids upstream,

through the foamy torrents all agreed to remain in denial,

her curves were developed on a sandbar,

her jaded pursuit was more than a culinary art,

the screen door closed as the sunlight walked out on the porch,

they dragged their feet languidly along the cedar planks,

the front porch swing was there waiting for them,

he collapsed onto that swing,

but she just kept her pace towards the fence-line,

and then jutted after the sky.

She Said

She said,

"Is Bobby coming back to the party?'

On the other side of the cold sleepy saturated dawn.

She thought,

"Didn't he know I was waiting down the hall"

She saw what rendered the fence line shot.

She wondered,

"Surely he knows he's the only one."

This heart wasn't meant to collapse under the wrinkled sands of the sky.

She said,

"I bet you he's right outside smiling by the fire."

Before this morning's shudders die to the sun's towering rays that belt a fiery glaze.

She knew,

"When I wake up he will be next to me."