My first name
Ripped, screamed, slammed
Out of calm air
just before impact

Sounds like trays of silverware
being dropped on linoleum,
The crash in the restaurant kitchen
That stops the dining room

Smoke and steam erupt
From the maimed car hood,
Crescent bent steering wheel
Speedometer needle frozen at fifty-one

Squirming out of windows
Because the doors
are crushed closed

We buried our illegal treasures
Somewhere near a plowed field
Underneath the scraped bridge

No need to panic
Only until the grapey blood  
Runs over my brow

The windshield was molded
With the impression
Of a bowling ball

We saw a slip of hairy scalp,
a wet potato chip crisping
in the sun

The kids at school drew
peace signs and *** leaves
On my mummy-wrap bandage

Ten years later
I look in the mirror
At a fasten seat belt sign
Of a scar

Roam phantoms
of my little
lost self,
Playing, running
around the apple trees

Happy is
the laughter
of my twin sister

Through the kitchen
window Mom fixes
dinner

Her smile bastes
the turkey
for Thanksgiving

Roam phantoms
of my little
lost self,
Playing, running
around the apple trees

Now
the fallen apples
rot on the ground

The backyard
of my past
is sullen wet
with leaves

There is a stiffness in my thumb
That stops me dead on feet
When I bend it, snap,
I clench my teeth

Cars hiss, splashing tires
The rain soothes my bones
Outside my grimy pane,
Dolorous bells—
Telephones

Do thumbs really ache
In inclemency?
All this time the rain
Has acidified, melting my marrows,
Or perhaps I had only fallen

My lone, disheveled skiff is flooded
With moonlight. I am a real-life sea captain,
Wading off the shore of Life.

I have jettisoned my mighty oar,
I now lie on the hull, drowning
In a Champion's brew.

I miss my mates.
I'm sick of reminiscing w/ the stars
Of my friends, my crew,
Our complacency,
And the Great War.

On Sundays the creatures
Ooze from their awkward dwellings,
Like fat worms after a downpour,
And rush the City.

They infect silently with their sick eyes,
They brush along your shoulder in passing,
They exchange ***** money,
They cause accidents.

They stare at you from across
Your favorite diners
With black coffee depression
And mutter underneath their breaths:
"This isn't real."

What is sleep when
My own shadow
Won’t even confront me?
Scream all you’d like
I still won’t look at you

Luck is Doubt’s
Next door neighbor