and i moonwalk to death metal
and you print my name in pencil
and i sign your initials in ketchup
and you collapse my card castle
and i scream “uno!”
and you organize my ponchos by color
and i rain-dance in black-and-white
and you boil eggs and toast rye
and i sauté credit cards and char napkins
and you jam on kazoo
and i rock on rubber bands
and you vandalize my computer with coffee
and i wake up in the middle of my tea
smoke
smoke on bullhead downtown corridors
smoke on kaleidoscoped domes
smoke on castes of cushions with thermometer beads
i shot you
a smokey glare on graduation day
and lit another lucky strike
smoke in your hair at your funeral
kids stapled to bad dreams
were there stars
etched into the sky
to illuminate
the dark footprints
we followed?
did the kids
dodge magic
down our veins
or was it something
more than molecules
matched to botched
machinery of bowels?
D.C. Porder studies creative writing at The New School. He blogs at Hooray 4 Chainsaws!
