Thursday, August 27, 2009

Bottled Water Sucker

It is much easier inside the wake.
the one white pressure bubble
amongst more in tote,
in the speed
white water forms
two calmness column rows.

the glass over the bump is easier
and lovely and smooth-
Realizing uniformity-
or absence of criticism
is nice.

We all have had a good summer,
And we all can't believe
it is the last of four laps.
Outside the white train
in front of circled mirrors
we saw our images behind her
expensive grace,
bows and lace.

like the day in a vintage store
pretending to have red lips,
white pearls clipped on the unpierced
cartilage hoisting faithful dark hair.
I'd thought our older selves
would appear like a brand new shade
but it was just her,
not even taller.
If you are old and climbing stairs
do we all okay me,
sitting at the top of the slide,
running in place?

I'm watching a film when we speak
of these plans
when two perfectly lit faces
are always under the shining stars
then two to five upward hands
wave happily bye in the rear view mirror
and two to five others sit just right
in the comfort of fit pockets
or they happy cling around taller waists.

We'd have that envisioned
in between the lines of letters
requesting quieter music
and earlier dinners.
"mommy this is called
Friendship Always Lasts."
All of the neighbors who saw that dance
died or moved,
and the ghosts that taped it all
metamorphosed into real beings
who bake
drink tea
and laugh before and after the sun sets.
These are all full things.

A saturated advancement
placed earnest speakers
in my heart.
I am interrogated,
but it is wonderful.
This is the spectrum
This is the line
This is the tree
where I laid in my bassinet.
This is the bayou
where we've shed our former selves.

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