I.

It had taken something
like fourteen hours
for the devil
to make a cake for her
perfect daughter
all custard-filled
and chocolate
and I threw it down the stairs.

Not that I was trying
to do so.

II.

It's just that
I slipped
on a rogue sock that
had made its home
on the sixth step down
and when I lost balance
I instinctively extended
my legs and
l a u n c h e d
myself into the musty
cosmos of the basement

And for a brief moment,
I was Superman

III.

"Great, it's in the
******* carpeting"
was all she had to say
as I lay gasping on
the concrete floor of the
basement,
pain blooming in
my side
and for a moment
I thought that maybe I deserved
to the pain because
I broke the cake.

Either way,
I hid the pain in my side
for weeks
and haven't
eaten chocolate cake since.

IV.

My side doesn't hurt much
anymore.
And my soul burns a whole lot less.

Perhaps we
could take
a lesson
from the
surgeon
whose knife
excises
any and all
inconveniences
from her life
standing knee deep
in fictional blood
spilled over
fictional drama
where
"just being honest"
is a license
to maim
and otherwise
eradicate
any answers
other than
"yes ma'am"
because like
a malignant tumor,
dissent messes
with the
clockwork equilibrium
of the idyllic
life in
chronic
glittering
suburbia

He liked to think
he had eyes
like the moon
reflecting back
unto everyone
the things best kept
unseen
but instead he found
himself hurtling
through space
with the promise of a sunrise
being always
just
out of reach

The last time I saw
him
he was sitting on
a park bench all
denim-clad and
cowboy boots
reading a worn out
copy of
True Grit
trying to find
his way home
to an idea of
the old west

We made love
in our tiny
bathroom today
and the cat
banged on the door
wanting to come in
so she could drink out
of the sink
which to her was
a lot more urgent
than whatever we
had going on
at the time

I was in a 50's style
ice cream joint
waiting on some Blue Moon
and I was staring at the checkered
floor
feeling nauseous from the pattern
and a couple came in behind me
who were more vivid than
any people I could ever make up

the wife said
"Dale, I got my own wallet, Dale."
and they ordered malts and I wondered
how many malts one could drink in a lifetime
and that my Blue Moon was taking a long time
but the lady turned to me and said
"i love your sweater so much it makes me sick"
and I said
"Thanks"
and she says
"If I were your size, I would knock you down
and try to steal it from you"
and we all laughed
in the beautiful
chrome ensconced ice-cream joint
before I took my Blue Moon
and wandered out back onto the street
of an old railroad town
with nothing else
to offer
other than reality

The cat's in heat
and I can't remember
the last time I slept
without the endless
coo coo
of my sweetest kitten
howling like a wounded
dove