You are the last dandelion standing
in a garden on fire,
and all you have left
is to take the pills
and make love to the flames.

Everything was like the mind of a hummingbird;
I had nowhere to be but there,
and I had everywhere to go.

We uncorked the earth and decided that life was not so bad.
We smoked a good amount
and listened to the Local Natives and City and Colour.
I was happy as a *** could be.

You can't see everything through a telescope
you got for 15 bucks at Talbots.
But I know what that's like,
to be 21, 24, 36,
or 49 years old,
being expected to understand the universe
through the lens of a plastic toy.
I can hardly see Jupiter from here,
or the girl in the house across the street,
taking off her bra.
I want my money back. There is no use for this.

A couple
sits on the grass,
cradling themselves
in each  other’s arms
like two canaries
perched on the branch
of a maple tree,
whistling a song
that’s been on repeat
for the past twenty years.
My German shepherd Samantha,
tilts her head to ask me
“Wouldn’t it be nice
if a tree fell
on top of them?”
I gently pat her
on the head and say,
“Yes, that would be lovely.”

You've had enough jobs
in liquor stores, gas stations,
and Chinese restaurants.
But you want your journal
to stay full and you're worried
that the stanzas will stop
after the jobs are done.

Well I was just like you,
afraid to talk to the girl
at the punch bowl.
But in the life after
I was saying, "*******"
to grocery store managers
and wrecking pickup trucks
on starlit Tennessee dirt roads.

We were the kind of kids
that would get erections from lighter fluid
and get suspended for it.
But no matter.
I found mountains to climb
and plateaus to destroy and
repair myself.

I took a look around
and stuck my nose in a flower.
At last, I have found the right words to say.

Adam was a geology graduate student at Stanislaus State, but dealt **** out of his house in Modesto. You wouldn't think that's what would be going on in his darling french tudor home, gray, with a cherry red door and vine crawling up the plaster walls. It looked like something out of a fairy tale. But we smoked a lot, in almost every room except his roommate's. We were unafraid to talk about anything: girls, friends, family, politics. That's how I liked it. When we disagreed on something, he'd say, "Oh that's just the ******* joke of a media we have." He would make some tea and sit on the couch and consider his six year-old German Shepherd, Titus. "So what the hell, how've you been Matt? Don't mind him, he always gawks at people like that. Still writing?"