taxis

it's amazing to think of things like
colorful salmon skin
and fresh toads and how children
can kill them without noticing too much.
somehow they just turn into stuffed animals
with their insides jangling.
somehow i don't appreciate
any amount of money until it's gone
and the weekday collapses around an empty hole
where i kept my accounts.
let's go to the free beach where they sell
free apples and mud dumplings!
it's very important to eat.
when i'm completely sun-tired
and sand-rid of
another obnoxious day
i'll let you know.
i'll let you have me at a flat rate.
i'll let you come find me
and drag my soggy body around.
please wave my arm politely at the outer parts of town.

so long insides

i was once a caramel caterpillar.
i lived in a small space between
some white bricks
and i licked the mold with
all my fingery feelies.
i felt the grooves of old cement,
laid down in the cold, wet dreams
inside them. there was
anxiety in the lifestyle.

i don't know what i am now. i
could be a dumb dog or one of those
flat-faced cats. maybe all the other
stuff is gone and i'm a bowl of
thick, white milk,
a hunk of stringy meat still
sitting on the table.

maybe a cloud of dust will drop by
and you'll feel me dig out
some change. i am two scratchy eyes
and an old backyard.
my stomach is a long, pink walk
to sunny bench.

i love to take a photograph

Marcus Evans felt unconcerned yet a serious look was planted on his face as he stared at the brown door. "I am a regular human being. I'm just a guy," he said, with lines still showing in the skin on his forehead and around his eyes. He thought about when he broke a wine glass, the noise it made, how his ears felt when the heard the shatter, how his body reacted to the sound. "I'm a regular guy."

He gingerly picked up his coat and touched the door.

Being outside didn't satisfying Marcus Evans in the way he needed to feel fulfilled. He trapped some ants under his thumb and crushed them. "I love bodies. I respect all kinds of people." He looked into the sun and tried to imagine someone helping him by shielding his eyes.

Penny, with bright red cheeks, sat down beside Marcus Evans and thought, "Today is different somehow." She hardly noticed Marcus Evans except for the warmth radiating from his black clothes. "The sun is strong and good, like God," Penny thought.

Both parties continued dealing with their own realm. Penny fondled a few tubes of chapstick in her bag and Marcus Evans pretended to fuse his hands to his thighs, tried to imagine being stuck like that.

After several minutes a woman appeared in front of the bench and asked either of them to snap of photo of her beside traffic. "I love the commotion," she said with a giddy grin.

Both Penny and Marcus Evans looked down, hoping the other would hop to. When the normal waiting period passed, they reached out simultaneously to grab the camera and bumped forearms. "I enjoy photography. It helps people remember what's important about life," thought Penny.

"1-2-3!" screamed the woman as a truck made a wave of wind.

"No, I'm supposed to count."

"What?" the woman replied.

"I'm supposed to do the countdown. The 1-2-3. Stand where you want and wait for me to get ready," said Marcus Evans. He'd grabbed the camera quickly once he realized Penny was willing to take the photo and now he felt bad about it. "Ok, 1-2-3."

"Click!" screamed the woman.

The woman left quickly after her photo without thanking Marcus Evans. She simply continued laughing then ripped the camera from his hands and back away from the bench, facing them for over half a block.

"She must have escaped from some home," thought Marcus Evans.

COOL FRIENDS

my friends, dustin and dave, do indigestmag.com. they put me in it. go look at it!

fancy flat

this is my new floor.
soon i'll know all the sounds here
but for now i cover them
with loud music
so they can also get used to me.
i want to do something
to feel more comfortable
like slip into a coma,
or be really hung over here
and watch bad movies
and bake brownies and leave
dishes and crumbs around my bed
but i don't have an oven
and i'm totally over chocolate
and one day i'll be sick of
this place, as in throw up sick,
and i'll leave
and become a sentimental jerk
around toaster ovens
and exposed light bulbs.

Dolphin Course

Through the cards and candle wax
we watched TV and you said you were drunk,
so drunk you couldn't stop drinking
and I agreed and I poured foamy beer
on my legs.
Should we move? It must be a sign?
I clutched an old guy, an old, old guy
who looked at me with salt in the corners of
his eyes and mouth and begged me to take him home
again. I didn't because of my wet legs.
Whenever you or anyone else brings up next week
I have to laugh. I have to hate the sounds of
laughing and then tell you how much you suck
and scream and run out the door to get more drunk.
We're surrounded by old dolphins,
shiny rubber creatures we get excited to bump up
against. Hold out your hands. They have photos
of themselves in desperate waters, in hotter times,
how they're now here by sheer idea, just swimming along.
I love them and I have to laugh. We're all such different
circumstances, math problems. Maybe men are big math
problems and women are meant to handle the numbers.
So for now, the long drawing I gave you will work.

house-sitting

for all this red wine
i'm quite sure i don't have the energy.
these two orange cats follow me everywhere.
i've wanted certain nice things before.
i wondered how out of touch,
how impaired my lines of judgment truly are.
24 little dogs lined up along our sidewalk.
it's chalk these days,
chalky medicine and hair weaves.
when you left, i whimpered,
wondered again when the mail would come.
it's like when you find me later i'm
hopelessly hammered and stammering on
about the climax, the way i hit you
and you cried and cried
from misappropriated pain. it's like
when i call out, you answer
just to see if i'm really
addressing someone here.