I was miserable at 16;
math problems were
hypnotic hieroglyphs
lulling me to sleep
adding up fleeting years
until I was only myself
through transitive property.
All that seems so far away
now that a baker's decade
divides me from that negativity
—which is a plus,
no longer subtracting
from the remainder
exiting the X axis
shifting my gaze
to smokestacks on the horizon
protruding into the Y;
mysteries postponed
carry over into adulthood
pondering the permutations
of possibilities
had those equations been solved.
Nonetheless, I remained undefined
igniting infernos
to create smoke I could explain
like steam rising from the spoon
building facsimiles of smokestacks
multiplying scattered wildfires
until new generations
had smokestacks to stare at.
All that behind me
I've driven further down the road
yet the smokestacks
seem as far away as ever;
they never changed, I did,
adjusting to the variables
and my deciphering deficiency
enjoying each point on the line
especially when it seems like
I'm earlier in my sequence;
momentary minuses show me 16
and far off smokestacks
down a road untraveled
eager to accept my driver's license
so I could factor into the problem.

Referees mismanage oversight
incorrect calls lower credibility
faith in justice dissolves into the ice
agency is taken into padded hands
vigilantes slash and spear.

Hip check leads to cross check leads to fist check
malignant hostility boils over
leather armor is removed
interphalangeal joints meet mandible
type O negative paints a jersey
haymakers take bizarre trajectories
to avoid helmets and visors
the face is homebase to ingrain pain.

Violence subverts gamesmanship
players must be taken off ice
to be put on ice
otherwise brawls become overabundant
and destroy the integrity of the sport
yet each transfer of agony is euphorically satisfying
—considering the context—
so fist fairs continue for the foreseeable future
we organize an impenetrable perimeter
once we've acclimated to penalty kills.

Capitalists capitalize
markets become factions
purchasing power negated
by marketing power
attention betrays humility
the town crier speaks agreeable rhetoric
would you like to read more for 99₵?
man drops change reaching in his pocket
his eyes scan the paper without reading
he skips the climate content—
he just wants to know the weather
coins collected by the crier are tossed in wishing wells
money shimmers in the shallow waters.

Envying elevation
neon arrows direct us toward saccharine sonnets
the seating is comfortable—the costumes are immaculate
curtains raise revealing Vaudeville starlets
the audience sits and claps
dying in the silence between laughs.

The market speaks in tongues
its invisible hand strangles culture
PG rules programming for product generating
companies like Procter & Gamble to advertise,
The proctor sets strict rules to lessen the gamble.
Grief spreads through infantilized thoughts
like toxic waste dispersing through the tributaries of a drying river
the fish are dying—their offspring are mutants
ageless wonders that never see the shore.

When
Where am I going?
and
Where have I been?
have the same answer
it’s nowhere.

Alex Smith is a quarterback
more importantly a husband, son, and father
who is cut no sort of slack
in a sport of slaughter.

West coast offense
almost always softens
someone in the pocket
used to quick tosses.

A deserved demotion to backup
made his life increasingly harder
all of the mistakes and bad luck
called for a new start for the starter.

Washington by way of San Francisco
he wasn't high up as far as the list goes
Alex Smith got his wish though
and was back in the fishbowl.

Alex Smith was used in
a game against Houston
and was rolled into a compound fracture
from a double defensive back compactor.

His trip to the hospital
wasn't quite optimal
and it kept getting worse
opening the door to a hearse.

The doctors detected
the wound was infected
Alex had become septic
with bacteria interjected.

Blood pressure dropping
and a fever rising
you know he wasn't flopping
by the way he was writhing.

The leg was turning black
and developing huge blisters
the knowledge they lacked
to heal the maimed mister.

His wife was worried
so were the physicians
to surgery they hurried
on a life saving mission.

The doctors discovered the issue
was necrotizing fasciitis
infecting skin and muscle tissue
like a black King Midas.

Daily debridement
helped with askew alignment
but the bone still looked like a trident
and the infection was the only assignment.

Should they take the leg while they can cut below the knee?
Is wanting to live your life a form of greed?
Does a steed consider its ambulatory needs?
Alex just follows the doctor's lead.

Eight debridements leave the tibia completely exposed
but the necrotizing fasciitis is gone
yet once one's legs explode
how can they move on?

Replacement skin comes from the quad
despite the risk of failure
the doctors took over for God
as epidermic tailors.

Intense physical therapy
is better than sitting scarily
or holding onto life barely
so Alex proceeded merrily.

Eventually healing
getting back to wheeling
this game didn't end in kneeling
when there was extra time to be stealing.

He was told he wouldn't play anymore
he was told he'd lose his leg
now the doctors have nothing to say anymore
and he's only looking ahead.

Playing with no team name
it was definitely no dream game
two teams that were three and seven
but for one quarterback this was heaven.

Two years after getting injured
Alex beats a divisional opponent
something no one would've inferred
back in that pivotal moment.

Fall becomes Winter.
Time changes. Time rearranges.
Each season provides its own challenge.

A shaving becomes a beard.
The snow falls. The snow piles.
Snowballs gain momentum and grow.

A scratch becomes an ache.
I can't breathe. I can't swallow.
I won't last long but this will last forever.

The cold becomes pneumonia.
I have coughing fits. I have blockage.
Phlegm builds an island to be marooned upon.

Habitation becomes hibernation.
The animals escape. The animals sleep.
They wait for the light to shine on them once more.

Mitigation becomes migration.
The birds fly away. The birds fly South.
As they flee their wings push cold air down toward us.

Winter becomes Spring.
I have become someone else.
A man who has felt another Winter.

Wanting to eat
we **** every animal that allows us to approach
until we’ve lost countless opportunities for domestication
and only the creatures that fear us or fight us are left.

The Moriori were a pacifist tribe living in the Chatham Islands
they ate well on abundant sea life until that secret got out
and they came into contact with the violent Māori from Wellington
this initial contact was a 12 year old girl’s flesh hung on posts
yet the Moriori council determined a peaceful approach to the Māori
who proceeded to enslave, ******, and eat the Moriori at will
the last Moriori descendant died in 1933, about 100 years later
Māori descendants make up about 16% of New Zealand’s population.

Wanting to eat
we **** every animal that allows us to approach
until we’ve lost countless opportunities for domestication
and only the creatures that fear us or fight us are left.