a fine how do you do

12-26-01

a problem with these two
is that they only knew
how to give until it ached
inside their bones.

so when it all was through
their troubles lost their hue
but they never understood
that it was done.

she loved him, changed
herself, and cried, while he’d
be sitting just inside the
other room, his television therapy.

yesterday she swept the floor
of his apartment, sweeping out
the door the dust of dreams
and crumbs of their past love

while he was busy changing
sheets on the bed he only
felt was neat when their clothes
were off it, strewn about the floor.

she loved him but he
talked too much and
she was someone he couldn’t trust—it’s amazing
how they worked so well in bed.

until she turned “cold” because
he “didn’t care” and not even
sexy underwear could get
them playing nice and playing fair.

she loved his dog and he loved her
ass he called her a snob and she called
him crass but this was how they breathed
“love” in each other’s ears.

he got a job then she got hers
and in the evening they’d come home
still kicking their spurs and digging
their days’ work into each other’s thighs.

they’re both wrapped up in life’s
small riffs which causes all their
little tiffs, frustrated how the other
won’t understand.

now she’s 22, he’s 23,
she’s feeling lost and
so is he, but neither one can
hold the other’s hand.

she loves him but it’s
different now and she’s not sure
exactly how she’ll move
along without him in her life.

when he had thought he
liked her fine except when
they’d fight—just wasting time—
between this and looking for a wife.

they’d made his place their
little home out of their
fear of being alone and now
together all the time is just too much.

it’s just too much.

mile high and

9-29-01

the whole way there
they were telling me about altitude sickness

about the disorientation and nausea
with impending certain death
by foamy blood in the lungs

so how am i to tell the difference between that
and this car sickness
from the relentlessly twisting road
up to the climbing spot

we are high in boulder canyon
and my stomach is still in denver

mothering

9-22-01

i saw an old woman naked today
pulling off her wet bathing suit in the locker room,
and she leaned on her daughter
and her daughter held her naked body
hairless and sagging
her abdomen in full pout
stretching like bread dough over her long v-shaped lips,
a long, soft childbearing beak.
her daughter helped her step out of the wet bathing suit
and wrapped her with a towel

[i tripped]

9-8-01

i tripped and skinned my knees
on childhood

i cursed it
and then it was gone

airport friends

9-7-01

the old man
is sitting next to me at the airport,

he tells me
about his eye surgery

suddenly we are best friends
discussing eyeballs in the terminal

i tell him i am flying stand-by
he crosses his fingers and smiles
for me

airborne meditation

9-7-01

on the plane i read my book
on meditation
i stretch my ear canals by yawning
just enough to make them pop

the clouds just below look like the snow chopped
by the snowplow
and left to block the driveway
in large heavy chunks—too heavy
for effective shoveling—
or like very lumpy mashed potatoes
with little chunks of uncooked tuber

i watch little pieces of metal
peel off the wing—small strips
and smoke… and then the flight attendant interrupts
with the choice of roast beef or chicken
i tell her chicken
the pilot says denver is 3.42 hours away

the wing is on fire
black smoke and screaming
people who don’t understand why
screaming doesn’t help
and it doesn’t
the wing is fully engulfed with orange flames
licking and devouring the thin metal framework

the woman to my right and her french pedicure
still sit reading her cheesy romance book
she doesn’t notice
the random sucking wind and papers or
that her french pedicure is on fire
the passenger behind me who has been kicking my seat
is still kicking
but is now on fire
all of the safety pamphlets and barf bags
are on fire too
should have read those before take-off

because then i’d know that
the seat cushions are actually
floatation devices
so that when we have to
make an emergency crash
landing we may all float along safely
on the babbling rocky mountains—

i’d also know
that the only way to exit the plane and survive
is if it has made a standard landing on level ground
and we all stand in line for the yellow inflatable slides
—weeee!
which are also on fire.
for your safety, the yellow inflatable slides are located
at the front, wings, and tail of the plane. please keep in mind
that the exit nearest to you may be behind you.

out the window i see the mississippi river
i imagine it is on fire
like the exxon valdese
the flight attendant wants to know my preference:
7-up or pepsi
i ask her for water
she gives it to me, with a plastic smile
(barbies melt in fires too, you know)
i watch the dust sparkle above the seat in front of me
i wonder how my allergies will react to the denver smog
i am bored with my fire
my feet are cold
i get back to reading my book

insight

8-19-01

three pitchers
and a pack of cigarettes later,
he said:
look at this
isn’t it amazing?
a beer epiphany
look at this
you light one end
and suck on the other
and it gets you high
for five minutes…
savoring his lucky,
he said:
isn’t it amazing?

[it’s easy to love]

8-16-01

it’s easy to love

someone you don’t know

well

rowing backwards

8-14-01

i found you again
this morning in the folds of my pillowcase
as the dream slipped out of my ear

then shadowed me steadily and smooth
as rowers in a shell—
we slipped through the I-79 fog
with coxswain taunting

remember?
remember you used to love me?

134 miles with my morning eyes sliding
over the license plates and road signs
punctuating the Allegheny foothills
and my mind sliding over memories
punctuated by unspoken promises

remember?

i know we will never
speak again, but this morning
i am in love
again

with that kernel of past that was nestled in my pillow
and snuck its way into my lips
so i caught myself smiling,
eyes closed
and blushing.

Truck Stop 22

8-9-01

Along RT 22
or the Bible Belt as some call it
my favorite church informs me
in neon red
that Jesus Saves

and sheds His light
on the truck stop across the road
featuring topless car washes
every Sunday
in the summer months.

This truck stop of sorts
is nothing special
(considering the 6 other similar
adult entertainment establishments
within the next 124 miles);

however, we know which one
Jesus saves

Jesus saves Truck Stop 22

Jesus loves topless Sundays.