D.

"C'mere, baby,
let me tell you how it is"
he said,
words spilling from
his mouth
like fishnets;
his lap a
landscape of regret,
reeking of a
stale, undead age.

Bad Influence

Every time I start to
think
I feel like I need a
drink
Maybe I should stop to read
Bukowski.

Dare

Ash fell
on the
D.A.R.E. sticker
on his
desk.

"Those were the days."
he thought
and coughed.

Troy.

Once
you stuffed them
into ships and huts
Reaping the
fruits of their labor
Denying them humanity.

Now
you stuff them
into blocks and jails
Reaping the
fruits of their labor
Denying them clemency.

A Dream.

Once I dreamt
of Jonathan Franzen.
We shared a sweater
and a cigarette.
Before I asked him
how to write
I finished my drink
and woke up.

Growing Up.

I was a father once
had silver-gray hair

then

I became a child
and finally knew
everything I would ever need.

Breaking Beds

we wrecked a
bed
in youthful
wrecklessness

from the backseat
of our fathers’ car
to the back of the
bus

ten minutes
to downtown
was enough

other kids’ stupor
(turning into an
adults stigma)
never caught on
to us

your parents’ basement
a practice field
tests without results

we painted our story
with all the colors
we could
find

Our world held
together
by three words
and a
hair slide

We joined in
fearless talk of a
non-combatant
future

Dilemma.

I want to see people
and I want to see lights
and I want to stay in.

The pleasure, the privilege
in a room
keeping me safe.

I want to experience
but I
can't stand experiencing

the hideousness that
lurks around every
corner

So I am
cornered in the
four corners.

All that is left
to see
is on a screen.
The light that never goes out.