the occurrences I recall in the next twenty-nine lines
of this very poem could be true.
But then again, they could
also be false.
                                                    ---   ­          
I was enjoying myself
at a friends wedding
sipping shiraz diligently dancing
until a man with long
pale hair and a thin tie
with crooked teeth
Pulls a knife.
I run. Far.
Until he caught up to me
in the freezer section of supermarket.
I freeze, he approaches and
I hit him in the head with a hubcap.
                                                    ---
M­y mother mourns over a half-eaten ham
Easter afternoon.
Why do we even ******* try anymore?
I sit silent as my father
sets off a verbal alarm about the mashed potatoes.
His feet take root in the yard
and hold on stubbornly
like the dying fir.
                                                    ---
The sweltering simmer of
a shower’s steamy embrace seduces me.
I dry off in the confines of
the white sterile tile room
A thousand people bellow around
my naked body,
walls quiver with the pressure
of air,
still as it ever was.