Why are you always so little,
running around kicking shins,
then hiding inside a cookie jar
swearing the crumbs are talking about you
in bittersweet morsels
wiped from hands
stealing all that is sweet in your life?

leapt into a silver lining
clouding intentions
voicing a disdain
for thunderstorms
when thunder
is quieter than a library
throwing every book
at the innocent

sidestepping downpours
while dampened pages
stick together
concealing proof
that false judgment reigns
and sunny days
are written in another chapter

Beware of prophets
with pencil and paper,
lower case amulets
worn like a charm,
dangling lures, shiny
nothing up their sleeves

Phrase-like indulgence
plastered on street lights,
counted and numbered,
scratched below the surface,
slight of hand gestures
tickling termites and maggots,
off shoots of decency

Dramatic detachments
re-glued and fastened,
revolving exits doors
spun out of control

Now you see me,
now you don’t
Abracadabra, like magic
in the hands of cheerleaders,
in the hearts of followers,
in the pockets of prophets,
in the end, the kool aid,
the cliff,
the disappearance

Hocus pocus
and they all fall down
into an abyss
of hypocrisy

Someone playing a concrete violin
with a jackhammer
on a midnight sidewalk,
street lights gawk,
flickering fascination,
tuning keys locked,
rosin swipes declined

chalks marks hold hop scotch trinkets
tossed into the numbered squares,
pawned now for a glass of chardonnay
and a plate of cheese

Paneled walls ache
of yesterday’s smoke rings,
scentless air fresheners,
hanging Christmas trees
presumed innocent,
only here for the music
and rear view mirrors

lipstick traces on a folded napkin
crimson half circles
prints on either side
someone will be kissed tonight

I’ll take it with me
I love the flavor

The makeup mirror held a frayed frown
I recognized from earlier in the day
brought about by a thin film of reason
spun on needles and thread

Carried off by thimbling fingers
clicking and clacking
(annoying as hell)

Costumes are over-sized and under-cut
Scenery drips like cardboard in the rain
Lights, camera, reaction
is printed in bold lines read aloud

While the director has lunch,
cucumber sandwiches and hot toddies

Shows are cancelled due to fame
when the actor’s favorite color
doesn’t even have a matching fabric
woven into the script

There is never a happy ending
when sadness is sewn into the scenes

standing in between dance steps
as my dizzying state of mind
fears the song playing
is merely a recorded message
that time forgot to validate

no stamp of approval
after the eject button is hit
and nothing comes out
but minor key accusations
in fast forward lies

clandestine calculations on ticker tape streamers
add to up to nothing in the vast scheme of time and space

when words fall from trees like levees breaking,

**** it

girl scouts to the rescue, if cookies can float
lined with sand bag intentions while rising waters
recede faster than the hairline of the mayor pro tem
collecting donations as his sister jumps rope
tied to the anchor of his city washing down the street

cleaning the gunk and glitz from gutter spammers
stealing passwords and paper boats
from unsuspecting children taking the day off from school
because the rains came and lemon trees no longer leaked
when anyone was looking,

ah lemon trees,

very pretty