Girls with glasses are cute
but that's only what I think
and she doesn't agree
so she's wearing contact lens
and she's losing them more
often than not
and the house becomes
a minefield
and we have the thread
lightly

it's just a small apartment
it shouldn't be that hard
to find them or the
one that got lost

when only one got lost
she would use the other
and cover her other
eye and look around
and point things and tell
me to turn them over so
she could take a better look

and I would sometimes
say "I told you"
but I no longer do it

I look under the cover
and the pillows
and the sheets
and the carpet
in shoes, under them
pockets, corners, folds
sink, toilet, tub

one day
she covers her free eye
and uses the other one
to look at her phone

"Really now?" I say
on my knees, searching
in shoes

she shows me her phone
and what I see is a bottle of
perfume

"Been wanting to get this
for a while now," she says.
"After this I'm seriously gonna."

I take a better look at the thing
and by gods
no
it's not a perfume bottle
not in that sense anyway

its description says
that you spray the things
you lose often with it
and your pet dog, being addicted
to the smell, will find them
for you

I drop the shoe down at my feet
and sit back and laugh
for about a full minute

When I'm done she's out
of the room

And I shout after her
"I don't believe in buying dogs,
I told you."

I don't believe in buying dogs
You either adopt them
or don't have them

but please, whatever you do,
don't ever spray stuff on the
stuff that comes in contact with
your eyes
okay?

He ate flowers.

this mentally challenged boy
from the countryside
I used to watch him
in the fields
when I visited my grandparents
as a kid
He was like an exotic thing
a wild beast chasing
static pray
They had no chance,
the flowers
he would assault them
with a killer's smile, frothing,
and would grab
and tear and rip them from
the stem and
would eat them

Nobody knew why
and the only explanation given
was that he was insane

then the men and women
who saw him would
scream at him
to stop and he would raise
his head and watch them
like a deer surprised by
headlights
Then he would spit the colorful
froth from his big mouth
and would run home
hopping and leaping like a horse
through the tall grass

He was mostly inoffensive,
this flower eating boy
but they all told me to stay away
from him and would
always chase him away when
he got too close

Time passed and I moved to the
city and went to school there
and stopped visiting the
countryside and its wonders
I got busy
and my busy life drove away the
magic and mystery of childhood

The flower eating boy is now but
a memory
neither good
nor bad
just strange, interesting

He doesn't eat flowers anymore
because he doesn't live in the
countryside anymore
No, from what I've heard
he's in some mental facility and it was
his last flowery meal that sent him there

I don't know,
maybe if they hanged signs with
"Don't wear flowers in your hair!"
around the village and the fields
that little girl would've been saved
and the village would still have its
magic beast.

Dry crying
with your mistless tongue
gacking and clatting
(a toy tapping out the winding
in its clockwork mockery)
Dry crying your devotions
and gloved family
into nothing more than vented memory
Your pores pelt vapor
You treaten thinner
stern thing
true to your wood
Dry to make your soldier state
Link rank with your troop mate
Crop your mind foreign of frills
Pay attention with your brothers in drill

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

i cannot wait for the day
i look at you
or say your name
or even see your picture
and feel absolutely
n o t h i n g

This morning

while holding your

note in my

hand.


the sun

fell unexpectedly

full somersaults

from the sky.

a fiery pinwheel

of downward

motion.


a molten

avalanche

of gigantic

proportions.

crashing all

around me,

as I sat

at my

morning table

eating my Monday

ritual

of oatmeal

and wheat bread.


abiding to

doctors orders

like an old dog

trying to be

taught new

tricks.


now uncertain

of what is to

become of me,



I know only

one thing

for sure.


I would of

loved you

one more day

with all my heart,


if you

would

of let

me.

Do you remember that time we belly laughed about letting work consume our lives?

No? Neither do I.