I was in love
with Denise,
(She sat behind me in the third grade and
moved away in the first few weeks of the fourth),
but it was Tasha,
(who sat next to me and was the
best friend of Denise),
that I would fantasize about.
I would wait in some bush
for her to pass by and then
leap out
wearing a black ski mask and
armed with a rag drenched in chloroform.

The part of the fantasy that would
constantly change was
the way I would drag her back to my trailer.
Sometimes
I would have a Tasha-size duffle bag and
other times
I just dragged her by her feet
or grabbed her by her arm pits.
I often thought it would be smart
to bring my little red wagon.
except that I didn’t have one

In my fantasy it was always late morning
because that’s when my mom wasn’t home.

Once I had Tasha naked in my room
I would tie her hands with a rope secured
to the ceiling
I would pinch and poke and rub Tasha’s body
everywhere.
And stare
She would be blindfolded but
I would leave my ski-mask on
just to be safe,
in case Tasha’s blindfold fell off,
you know?

it’s hard to find chloroform when you’re
only eight.  

Anyway,
she would squirm and writhe and
wiggle
but soon she would change a little
and she would start to moan
she would gasp
and eventually
she would beg for more.

And then more Chloroform
I would drag her back
so that when she woke up
she would maybe think it was
just some fantasy SHE had.

But Denise,
when I dreamed of her
we just rode bikes and stuff.

I was in love with her.

I don’t want to be
the fat kid on the seesaw
anymore

The let down
the crash into
the dirt

I want to build castles
in the sandbox

Maybe  
hang precariously
inverted

Or perhaps slide
perpetually

Or swing so high
I might go upside down

then just
let go into a freefall
jump

I met God today, walking down the street.
Or at least, someone who is supposed to look like him.
He told me to “*******”.

I like to meme all the time
I like to meme with a rhyme
I like to meme when I dine
Give me my smart phone back, mom, or I’ll ******* **** you

Carbon copy wolves approach a baby in a carriage,
ripping checks from checkbooks, checking
stock quotes, let me rock those Dockers for a day,
and pay me garbage cash to clean your pool.
I'd never let my money turn me into you, you
conquered bastion of a man, you broken pipeline
leaking seltzer water laugh tracks on repeat.
I seat myself behind your mother as we watch you
hate the world you pay to **** and juggle clients
for applause. I hope you dig your own memorial
with dollars that you stole, and make a million
off the tears that come to decorate the ground
around your feet.

Because no matter how you frame it, you're
a picture of "the worst is yet to come,"
and if you're lucky, maybe God (or some
divine eternal something) will forgive you for
the things you'll learn in time to cold regret.

But maybe not, and maybe greed will end you yet.

It's never quite right, he said, the way people look,
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.

don't I know it? I
answered.

I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night

nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.

I walked down the stairway and
into it.

the house next door makes me
sad.
both man and wife rise early and
go to work.
they arrive home in early evening.
they have a young boy and a girl.
by 9 p.m. all the lights in the house
are out.
the next morning both man and
wife rise early again and go to
work.
they return in early evening.
By 9 p.m. all the lights are
out.

the house next door makes me
sad.
the people are nice people, I
like them.

but I feel them drowning.
and I can't save them.

they are surviving.
they are not
homeless.

but the price is
terrible.

sometimes during the day
I will look at the house
and the house will look at
me
and the house will
weep, yes, it does, I
feel it.