It just is, the way the past comes up,
nothing weird or sinister about it:
former babysitters, kids you carpooled with, girls
you wished you asked out, like a large
parking lot ice pile that minutely slips away
with each rising degree. Sitting on a stool
that resembles the perch I used during
7th grade life science, the trees hanging
over the sidewalk like decayed, upside-down
nerves, it seems that this planet
is the whole universe and that while
it's not going to stand on its head for you
it isn't all that bad.
That is a good tree right there, a very good tree.
The things that must be gone through.
I was hoping for a bit of relief but it didn't work out.
There were all kinds of enjambment.
She was asking for it, the failed reporter said.
His eyes were a pool of mashed guts, or jelly.
I was asking for it, for the pool to un-drench itself from the sky.
The sky was a boy inside of a girl and vice versa.
She was leaning over the counter like Juliet, Cleopatra.
It was the end of it, we put the key in and only
this faint grinding was heard.
So you have said it, this time.
Very unlike the other time. We imagine our wares
holed out in the fabric of the places.
My dog gave me all psychological pieces of him
and for now I continue to break.
The other dog is being a bitch, yapping
That is a funny word; one that describes
man's best friend also means
Like an old love who comes to your place
to say hi and make you wallow,
like 'hi' is something ironic,
a thought of you on the eve of your death.