shroomyowl
the dust sets on the streets
yellow for trees
rainbow for oil
black for city
the water catches it all
i step into a puddle
ankle deep
and uncaring
i thought today's word would be wizard
or maybe lizard
salmon is a color
and a taste in my mouth
from a plant called blue belle
it was so small in my hand,
it made no sound in the misty
morning
they sing
but mineral
calcified
a latticework
of notes that i cannot hear when i press my face to the granite countertop
there is a pain in my lower back
if i can't hear it at least
she is cool on my face
it was a weak line
of reasoning
they thought the beast had no self control
her wild mane and dirty pelt
but of course she ate them
spat out white bone
the leaves
had started to curl
like sleeping fingers
when the wind blew softly on them
and then slowly i realized
that i had made a fist every time
you spoke her name
the toy had a secret inside
but she didn't try to open it
there didn't seem a point to this
mortal body
but when we sat on the grass
and tried to talk about our feelings
i couldn't still my hands
i wanted to pry it apart.
flashes please clean the filter
some day we will not be able
to see through the grime
today i schedule a time
to wipe my glasses with
alcohol
instead we go to the bar
and decide it's too stuffy
outside on the bridge with some traffic it's
noticeably more flicker, less sound
it was a little unusual
but the lizard seemed polite
it tipped its hat
and walked with a grace
that betrayed years of bipedalism
it seemed to be its way to
a hot date
or maybe a quinceanera
or something about silver in clouds
a plane passed by us
in at least three
directions
and maybe a few dimensions
i told you to duck down
and hear the whow whow
but instead you laughed
loud enough to startle
passersby
i'm afraid of getting my
hand caught in yours
like i'm afraid of pulling
the stickers from my
socks
we will stick and it will
be painful except
nothing good will grow from this
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the words you reach for
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