Rubber faces.  Foreheads sweat, stream clown makeup when cheeks meet.  Sweet blood: corn syrup, water, starch.  Lick then smell.  Vampires pick jolly rancher debris from teeth.  Blue fangs.  A skeleton in the closet undresses a nun.  Open door open window sit three cats.  Watch the sun set.  Crows murdered around oak trees.  Darkness.  Lights, music, karaoke, Elvis sings Franki Valli.  Richard Nixon gropes a slutty nurse.  Left hand, right breast.  Alcohol permeates air.  Skin, sweat.  Touch.  Marilyn Monroe hoards candy corn souped with beer broth in her stomach.  Passes out.  Steve Irwin wears a sting ray through his chest, ***** tail through his shirt, surrounded in blood.  First place in the costume contest.  Alter egos.  Fred Flintstone feels snubbed.  So does a saran wrapped girl.  ******* hidden with black fabric circles.  Black balloons.  Orange ones.  Red balloons.  Popped.  Silent girl in white stands in the corner.  Caresses a small bottle of cyanide in her fingers.  Thumb, middle, pointer, pointed at Marilyn.  She knows she will not wake up.  They’ll call it suicide.  Elvis finishes his song in a falsetto,
Oh, what a night.

If I was a witch
I would split the Earth
thousands of miles away
into good and bad and **** the oppressed.
If I was a witch
I would see red rats
gnawing week old carcasses
and talk to house cats.
If I was a witch
I would ask a cat
Can you help me summon
the ****** or a demon
engulfed in fire red as rats?
If I was a witch
the cat would answer
Sure, would you prefer
Lucifer or Volond?
Perhaps ****** or Old Scratch?
If I was a witch
I would not care
what a devil or demon spoke to me
or how hot his igneous breathe was
when he said
I'll help you take Salem
one farmer at a time.
If I was a witch
I would change my name
from Tituba
to Agatha
and boil broth
morning sunset to night sunrise.

I sit and pick seedlings from the earth like chicken from my teeth.  My eyes stay closed.  I feel the green of maple seeds, crashed helicopters.  I smell death.  Behind me he slaughters chickens.  Stretches their necks on a tree stump.  Butcher knife guillotine.  Heads pile in a once white bucket.  I pick my teeth blind.

Birds in nests and worms
in birds in nests sing songs
in a tree above me.

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1

0

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I walked to school in the snow
up to my knees
like an acrobat trapezed
from snow angel to man
to summers
as humid as saunas
but we still rode bikes
and played ball in heat
and jumped off bridges into the canal
in front of retired fisherman
who wore straw hats and smoke pipes
like snowmen and they ice fished
in the harbor where we skated
and sprayed snow on each other
until the ice cracked
in spring thaw
where bass spawn
and they fished
and we swam
until fall.

I never thought that someone could love
communication more than Telsa.

Then I saw Jessica texting:

pounding keys
a sweaty finger moves around
in circular motions,
the phone vibrates
opens in anticipation,
more fingers dance
on the soft buttons
that light up
with every tap,
a final send,
an ****** of relief
as she shuts the phone
and takes a deep breath.

A rhombus is my favorite, crooked square.
I like haunted houses with windows with faces
and fun houses with mirrors that oval circles
that distort my body two hundred degrees.

I like haunted houses with doors at right angles,
and half moon neon protractors
that blur every shape zero degrees.  
I like cubes I stack four cubes high.

I like half moon neon protractors
and scientific calculators.
I like cubes I stack ten cubes high
and old houses with ceilings that creak.

I like scientific calculators
and dividing eight billion by pi.
I like old houses with ceilings that creak
with cylindrical cans filled with old beets.

I like dividing eight billion by pi
and fun houses with mirrors that stretch right angles.
I like old houses with crooked windows,
like I said a rhombus is my favorite.