there’s a guy standing beside me
waiting for the bus
Israel is like a coffee cup
then he wipes his nose
on his sleeve
Israel is like a coffee cup? I say
I should know? he says
Maria Callas is dead and Groucho Marx.
Loren Eiseley is dead. Vladimir Nabokov
And Robert Lowell and Elvis. Dead.
This is the year in the Years of Lead
When The Metropolitan Indians rioted
In Bologna after the Carabinieri...
My grandmother’s house was always full of flies.
They’d crawl across each other on the windowsill
or would be spinning out their noisy dying
everywhere―so many, you could sweep forever
and not get all the dead flies off...
I’m still. That’s how it feels.
I wait all winter for the animal to die,
raise its chin, look
into time. I
lack sun and Lord Tequila. I wonder
where good comes. Here in my head
I’m a herd of one, and rage, slosh...
Bully Billy drove a Huffy, upped the ante,
ghost rode his bike into Audi car doors.
Five crew cut stepbrothers back from the army
would knuckle punch the family puppy.
That scrapper, his out-of-season t-shirt,
Love flattens time.
The groceries in the trunk hyperventilate beneath the locks.
Old men substitute video games for bathing.
It’s a vegetarian act to eat a predator.
The sum of the squares of the first seven primes is 666....
Plot points that lit some childhoods like pier mount lighting:
the rogue, hirsute, endlessly American cop on a tryst
holding morality discharged in one hand;
that and everything I thought I was done with,
credits rolled, kaput...
O wondrous one, your bipedal swag, terrestrial locomotion,
partial appendages revealed, brain a soft sponge, size
of an acorn, still waiting for that growth spurt
3.2 million years later. Your single pelvic bone, pubic arc
Three fake plastic bushes per sill
in the mall promenade.
A poor man’s Platonic ideal,
like the subset that forms in my heart
for the Tyrolean girls of retail.
My omniscience evaporates
outside the subject/object...
To think you slender necked majestic birds, mythical white,
were worn as shoes. Split open at the seam and tender female feet
urged in to keep the damp and mud at bay; slippers of a sort.
The only plunge you made a final one into...
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