I am not this
unimaginable set
of we, two twigs
like darlings
      entwined
                and
moving lazy
up a tree,
still green
moss covered
              stone hands
warmed by the
sun and so
much
more
We
Together we might
make something
better, here inside
the blanket cover
of soil, of night
of stars and
even a well
lit
moon
I am not this
intangible
forgettable
and rarely used
tense, future
perfect and
                  continuous
Nope.
not
me

My childhood memory
comes and goes, just
like my childhood
until it simply
went; The order
of things, I don't
remember learning
the days of the week
and especially not
how nice it would
have been to know
what makes a day
out of a sun or a
moon or even
Saturn; days of
weeks of months
of years, torn up
like me never to be
retrieved like me
my childhood
memory
deceives me,
evades me,
hides from me
with only the sound
of it pushing through
yelling mouth as wide
as a mixing bowl
"MY NAME IS JANE
MY NAME IS JANE"
I said it over and over
again until it got to
dark to even play
the game where I
could be not me
for a change
I sat in a giant fire pit
encased in stone and brick
pretended it was a house
like Lucy's after she moved
to the country, not us
standing at the top of the
yard yelling cuss words
******* at cars
I suppose there were lots
of screams like when the
goldfish hit the floor and
died before we could save
even one or when mom
ran into the door again
memory does not pretend
at least it doesn't do that
we had no god, no food,
no father and no car

I do remember when our
new babysitter left us in
Paterson Park and no one
got us until it was well
after dark

Somehow none of us
screamed, why bother?
******* tee hee hee

You hold your wit and
wisdom in tight fists
rather than letting
your genius roll off
your pretty fingers
one gift after
another; no
not ever (for
fear one dumb
thumb might
betray you
and then
the other)
the art of not
knowing yourself,
a dull and painful
slice, death by
increments and
degrees with each
secret a blow against
time immemorial

if I put my next
steps
       here on earth
if I
put them in your hands
and follow
                 a few paces
behind
will you
run like a thief
thinking you
                      have
caught the better part
of me?

you fool

I would hate
to be
       as empty as you
running off with
only that
               little bit
that vicious bite
                             not even
the best bit
of me

I was saving that
for later
             see?

Today, just as easily as yesterday
or even tomorrow, and who really
knows what sort of cosmic change
one more trip up the stairs, a minute
or so involved in finding a set of keys
can bring? I do not claim any bit of
godly eye into the possible futures
much less the remiss and distress
of the concreteness of the past

No

Even so I can tell you this:

Today I ran over a wedding gown
in the middle lane of a local interstate
and just as I was getting over the shock
and twist of so much crinoline, so much
taffeta, catching a breath and wondering
what it could mean: what looked to be
a golf ball bounced twice in front of me
then bashed around under me and
any hope of spying it in my rear view
was dashed completely

I was trying to listen to an NPR show
about the human mind and death and
what we think we can tolerate in the end
is exactly what we cling to, if only
to not end

I was reminded of my mother's slow
and lingering death (painful, thoughtless
absurd) and how many lives end that way
not at all what we plan to endure with
the pleas to please **** me when it comes
to that and not a minute more, absent
of all dignity which we think in our
last lucid moments is important;
which we think in our last lucid
moments is more important than
diapers or mumbling or *******
ourselves

And not a single one of us knows
when we will give in, what little
moment will mark the beginning
of the end- a golf ball, a wedding  
dress, a wolf passing by our bathroom
window as we take a midnight ****

That could be enough, that could be
the undoing, a small grunt and a passing
fact, like you- passing, fact, past tense
just a glint in a lonesome wolf's eye
as you cross over from wanting to live
to wanting to die

"Yeah, that's 'Almost' with an 'A', yup, kind like
'John Amos' but with a 't' on the end,  also with
an 'l' between the 'a' and the 'm'..."
"Huh? Who's John Amos? jaysus feckin christ,
'Good Times'? The guy with the wide nostrils?
Bad example, sorry, let's move on..."  
"...that's 'a' as in 'aardvark', 'l' as in... no no no, only
one 'a'... 'l' as in 'lemur', 'm' as in... '******' (this
person knows how 'aardvark is spelled?) 'o' as in
'o my god', 's' as in... 'seizure'- yeah, that's 'seizure'-
S,E,I,Z,... no no no! not 'c'! 'z' as in 'zoo'...  'u' as in
(******* christ) 'UNICEF'... yeah, UNICEF, I think it's
an anagram... huh? ANAGRAM! with an 'a'!  'a' as in..."
"Okay, so that's 'a'... where the **** were we? NO
I WON'T WATCH MY LANGUAGE! Anyway where
the **** are you? Mumbai? As in former Bombay?
(why'd they change the name?)... and why do they
only train you in English cuss words? What was that?
What I just said or how do I spell my name? o crap just
never mind."
"...'o'? What's after 'o'? You mean you're actually keeping
track?!? wow! Forget what I said about your training-
you're a ******* genius... O... no, not 'o'! Only one
'o'! So, one 'o', not two, not..."
"In fact, **** it, I don't give a **** anymore, add an 'o'
to my name, call me "Almoost" call me "Bitchface", huh?
You wanta know how I spell Bitchface?"
"Where were we... 'o'... NO! NOT A THIRD 'O'!"
" 's' as in **** **** ****... and 't' as in um, Tel Aviv
... hello? HELLO???"
"O my god o my god omygodomygod I just got
disconnected!"
"NOOOOOOOO"!