One day while ******* beer from the curb into the street
you were hit by a Toyota. Split your forehead like
a cleaved melon.  You are officially a gimp;
your left eyeball wanders & you live in
June of 1986 & talk to the radio.
Hope this is read to you,
your friends wept
years back.

Why do they die?
The healthy ones against
wind rain, snow and disease.
It died. Fell over with a groan.
It was just a red oak; I loved it.

In a world
of trees, I
was born
a bird.

I'm rotten I know.


Cleopatra.
Broken AC.
Hornets without a nest.
What a mess.
Mint chocolate chip ice cream.
Wet hair and blank stairs.


Simultaneously too bitter and too sweet.