what if there is no backdrop
i mean it could all be the central story, right?
i've called weaker plotlines boring and stronger ones interesting
and now when i see the story stretched out
not only over the course of my life
but through the tapered and weaving lives
of circles and slopes
of color and dreary bland borders

i see

i am compelled

it fills me

i was an artist
you were perfect
now I'm a worker
and you're confused
and the mess is better than any straight line ever drawn

we write and dance,
we share so selfishly,
like everything is ours to give

Where in fact could you tell me
lies this girl Felicity
The name I myself did give
to a perfect model of love

Is she the teenage girl at work
who flirts and shakes her ****
Asks me to touch her fleshy stomach
Everyone thinks we're having an affair

Is she the twenty something student
who texts me now and then
So we meet for illicit dates
and never anything else

Or is she the woman now past thirty
who feeds me every night
Wears high heels in bed
while loving me with all her heart

Which of these can you tell me
Is Felicity among the Felicities
Surely it is not you
I couldn't deal with anymore.

I cup a Pall Mall, it is 10:30 p.m.,
December & Montana
frigid.

The store’s back window is unlocked,
I take white bread, ham
& mustard.

Hunker curbside, make sandwiches
& eat, I am less

hungry, cold
& 14-years
old.

One dozen migratory Black-and-white Warblers lay
like fallen piano keys on the sidewalk in front
of a 14-story glass constructed building;
I watched as the janitor swept
them into the street.

My breathe encapsulated with shards of excruciation, I am not inclined to understand the distorted vengeance that is beneath me, something greater than I lurks with a suffocating aura tormenting everything that is weak enough to where the cloak of demons. Do not entice beings in the underworld, leave them to face their own revelation, when the walls start to crumble on their fickle minds that are soaked in an ill-instrinsic fiction dream world that will never happen, because they will always be the ones poisoned by him.

On their third date,  Sue forgot
her diaphragm; the infant died at birth.  

Second child was touched,
she & the boy moved to town.

Dave got the house, Chrysler
& an unfinished chicken coop.