and there are brown cars all over the road
we put our money on our gray fox
and at the quarter pole some mexican wins by a neck and ¾
we dance like a cabaret
tan legs crossing dipped in fluorescent hues
and the mexican is dancing on your grave

and i no longer care for sugar
as you used a coat hanger to silence the horns
the elevator man has a quueen of red hearts
always exchanging glances.
take a shower. silence.

 

  

 
  piano flowers flicker
with orange. blue house paint.
bare skin on cement
short hair and a skinny body.
different than you feel you are now
heat flickers red like childhood trees on your second birthday

your teeth were sharp then.
you wound around trees with nails in your feet.
and the camera said look at me
behind a yellow house

potted red roses like cups in your eyes
sitting with your legs crossed before the bricks
and the piano flowers return. silence.

 

 

 
  shadows are looming things
the ones from Alabama are too
tape cut and cars drive by.
sound is minimal as you speak
wave to your neighbors more often
they have shadows too.
and you were saying your girlfriends name 15 years later
but you were really saying tina
and then you started to cry.
but you are a good boy who won’t let on.
but you start to cry again.
and who are you crying about?

and you ice skate.
twice.
the blades cut the white, chemical footed ice.
and now you are sleepy.

 

  

 
  it is very quiet and only the keys bang.
you think about your hands.
and silence.

you sleep peacefully on sheets with elephants glued to the
white background.

you are disrupted by hands and bodies and bodies and hands
skin you came apart from.
the telephone rings.
its the man with the camera 15 years later. play.
and what i see after is hard to say.
silence.

 

  

 
  and there you are again.
your feet have holes in them.
you run and jump and dive like you are submerged in water
you tell stories
you say your name like a television host
cut.
and you iron a stuffed dog
with a mixer
and the camera man says it’s ridiculous
and you storm off the set.

you retrieve your mixer.
and orange box marked MIXER
and you stab the stuffed dog with the male end
and you tell stories about a baby and you sing them.
you count to 7 and become enraged
you want your mommy but you ask for your other mommy
but she is at the bank.

and those stage lights are very very bright.
and you sing happy birthday
take a bow and sing e i e i o
and you can not dance.
cut.
flash next scene.
you are wearing one black shoe
the line at the toy store stinks
and you kiss your own image on the TV
and you do it again
and you love your momma
and so does the camera
but you want a new momma
and throw the old one in a white trashcan
but you don’t really want a new mother

and the tape is still rolling.
and the camera used to believe in god
and you wave goodbye.

 

  

 
  on the street corner
you drive slowly
he drives slowly
he is looking across the street in the morning
you are looking down oxnard north
the trees are motionless, their palms are flat
and it is sunday march 29 2 pm
her voice was sweeter than his was

but she doesn’t like it when you touch things
she tells you to sit down
you try to water the fake grass.
she threatens to hit you. cut.

you are looking for someone named judy.
but you are not hungry.
she tries to win you over with cookies.
but you will not budge.

you are looking at a white politician and a black actor.

 

  

 
  there is better flesh than yours now.
in all kinds of trouble, and it is funny.
to know how so many of these people will die
or not live anyway.
car crash.
drugs.
fire.
business problems.
backwards

she ran over her baby and put him in a trash can
sickness can do that to a mother
but she was crazy.

they called it the baby blues.
static.