I almost forget her name,
the one who sent you the picture of her
pink ****  who maybe, in a moment of angst,
wanted to feel wanted.

I mean, I get it.

Woo-wah Hur-rah   hey Zach,

Is this thing   funny or not?

It’s mid-March already
and I’m still sad and fat  but hey,
I’ve got a cat  

all slick black  with one white spot

Woo-wah Hur-rah   hey Zach?

Bet you saw  (well did you?)
its   street-smart    jaw   ******
a New York City pigeon’s   *****-*** wing    

oh man,

that coil sling cat jumped forward    I screamed
as he clung to his prized catch

my cat, it swings and wrings the things that fly all around our terrace

Holy Mackerel,  did you see that?
almost gave me the shiver to see him jump so high,
that little cat  testing death  

for a taste of  pigeon  pie  (or fries)
whichever suits his fancy

Hey Zach, catch  that-
there’s a small cat on the  2nd floor
waiting for a Ramsey Gordon worthy dish,
Doors and windows can’t hole him in,

And I fear  it’s a meal he might   literally   fall for.

Hur-rah, fupa? Or maybe something less…you know.
My cat    lunged like a living sling-shot  
almost over the railing
Pigeon-pied eyed, without a thought

****, testing death

Hey, Zach?
Isn’t that funny?

Seems fitting   like a good thing
to have you in a   poem   forever  the kids
that weren’t mine   or me   no matter how
much I wanted   us to  feel   like family

Seems fitting   to dream P.  up a star
playing  for a big  soccer league  on a field
surrounded by admirers  for his smile, his wit
his laughter    

And would he  remember me   the Elsa girl
who watched funny animals  with him so he
would smile, left behind from  a trip    one of the
so very few the kids   here ever get

and you   what to even write? the swings  
the ocean   the waves of your spirit    the strength, dare I say
that made you  up from scratch    on dark days
the dreams that kept you up, and up, and up

and just like a shudder    you both came and left
leaving  your steps in the hallways   of here
leaving your faces embedded in my    heart
taking with  you  all the good things  I wanted you to take

all good things   like the dreams
of success, of power, of happiness, of love, of truth, and redemption

i walked 16 miles with you for Pokemon Go,
even though I knew I didn’t want to, or at least,
I’d have rather done something else

like walk romantically near a lake,
have a coffee at a corner,
eat expensive chocolates at a museum
go to the movies
kiss uncontrollably

so when we made the 14th mile, I could resist no longer
the anger
the urge to fight any woman   like me   craving your attention

and so I smacked my cheek, hoped someone took a picture

and called it a day

My sister is the keeper of nice things  some
cheap  and others   expensive
like Pandora bracelets and quality hair products
for her curls  and she likes  fine dining
and also Entenmann's pound cake,  just flour, butter, and
high fructose corn syrup

My sister is the keeper of nice things, that smell good
like the soaps she uses, the conditioners and body wash
from Marshalls (the good stuff) and those yellow Vitamin Waters
from 7Eleven and the Cheetos.

My sister, she is the keeper of nice things, like
fresh laundry, and comfy sweaters  and hot chocolate
on winter days  and laughter after school,
She is the keeper of nice things, colored socks and
forbidden pastries, creamy fillings and boy talk,
inside jokes and meaningful music

My sister, she is the keeper of nice things,
like books by Jane Austen and Gabriel Garcia Marquez,
like rantings on a rainy day and a million other things
I can’t think of.

My sister-she is the keeper of nice things, that smell good
some cheap, others expensive…

My eyes wrinkle with pain and discomfort
probably from the toxic levels of ammonia   in my room

my cat’s spray  marking territory
no matter how  barren

If you listen closely   in fact   you might hear the sound of the mice in our walls

I asked you a ***** question last night
I was pungent too, interrupted showers
or from the natural  odors this body emits from
stress   and work   and undesirable outcomes

I had moved from my seat to the bed, littered with unwashed garments and ties,  on one corner
stained with blood from my cycle

I had
forgotten to  dab it quickly


And here I found my little life
open and  defective   like a   child’s
suggestion   to     read     the Bible

My garbage overflowed  with rotten items
processed   foods, exposed to the airs of my room,
the sniffs of my cat    and other critters

My eyes  shifting forms  red and gauzy

Maybe even     not even me

Just a mirror     of an old human  feeling
like desire, hate, envy

Summoning   death   for all the wrong reasons

to converse   like old friends
to be let into a secret  room

to become some  thing better

the choices were endless   the maps
you could trek   and run through   the shrubs of
all colors    and whether or not a killer would
catch up to your swiftness and  hang you on a hook

on the screen   I could see the reflection of your eyes
how big they   get  and how  disciplined your fingers are
on the control   as you press A B  or C   or D

how  endless were the choices   of who
you could be   and also, the clothes  and the hairstyles and the poses
how endless…