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Cracks
Sitting alone in an empty house I wonder
how I came to sit on this cold oak floor.
I wonder what happens when I turned
left rather than right. Alcohol is not the
reason I hit that delinquent tree because
that tree was clearly sober. I had had a
few drinks, but clearly it was not the cause
of my accident. It was the crack that
everyone took the time to ignore. The crack in
cold black asphalt that was sent to the surface
by the molten hands. It was the spitting
crack with fluorescent green crabgrass reaching
out to the heavens begging to be saved
from oncoming traffic. The crack that
catapulted my 1987 Chevy Caprice fifty feet
to the right down a narrow pass lined with
Apricot, Juniper, and Magnolia. That crack
stole everything I owned. It is the crack’s fault
I had to attend in Mothers Against Drunk Driving,
and it is the crack’s fault I am sitting alone
on this cold oak floor. I had everything,
and now I have an empty house full of
cracks. Cracks in the wall, cracks on the
floor, and cracks in the ceiling. Cracks drive
me insane. Next time I hope the crack
will be kind enough to send me
left rather than right.
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5:10 am
Like an alarm
my mother came
crying into my
room telling
me to say
goodbye and
with drowsy eyes
I lay myself
in his bed
combing his cold
hair and feeling
his coarse hands
one last time
trying to feel
the soothing comfort
he felt no longer
invaded by
an army of tumors
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I Battled Obesity a lot as a Kid
I often had crazy dreams about candy coated forests.
Chasing gingerbread men through a pitch black light
again,
until neon stars highlight a foreign world. A rainbow of
color
paints this wonderland. Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue
Indigo, Violet. Plastic toy boats intercept these
evasive
cookies, and ferry them through a fruit punch river,
flowing
slowly through the rich chocolate valley. Swedish fish
splash in the river sending sweetness onto cinnamon
coated river banks. Frightening gummy bears roam erectly
through jello forests. Up river, sour worms nibble their
path
within freshly caramelized granny apples, which only
appear
in autumn. Finally, boats approach the end of the world
where invincible gingerbread men evade captivity and
fall
through pitch black light again.
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Athlete of the Month
Spot light shining on me,
audience calls my name.
Everyone cheering in rhythm.
The Smacking of high fives race through my ears.
I descend old oak bleachers,
tip-toeing my way around a sea of purses and pupils.
The earth slips under me,
after a misplaced Louis Vuitton
became the unfortunate stepping stone for my size 12
slip-ons.
Gym lights race past my eyes like comets in the sky.
Deafness creeps in as air is all I hear.
At once the gym is silent.
A moment passes and suddenly
a volcano of laughter erupts.
I lie motionless unable to catch my breath.
My walk of shame endless as I stride for my award.
My moment of glory turned comedy,
spot light still shining on me.
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