you say you
love me

and immediately
I look for strings

and a hand
up your back

wool
we sit in a park

on the grass
as the day turns

dark

we fail to see
but most of all

we  struggle

A hardboiled egg
on the counter

dyed blue

staring at me
at six am

he is risen
and unfortunately

so did I

Slats
planted in the sand

lashed together
with rusty wire

while scraggly reeds peak in out
And up around them

I am there and yet

I never was

Cotton whites

sock shirts
and drawers

still fresh with the scent
of laundry soap

flapping

in a crisp March wind
on a gray weathered rope

they say pictures
last forever

but not this one

fading fast between
the plastic and acidic pages

A silver nicrophone
blares

rapid fire punchlines
in one long sentence

that snakes its way
to your funny bone

Warbling pigeons
in the park crazy

from the heat

a dizzying spin
on a paint-chipped

merry-go round

a greased slide down
hot metal

into a gravel pit

a burning sunset
but don't rub your eyes