Overtime

I am here for the glare off city windowson my walk home from where I’m working nowwhere fenced in gardens grow straight throughthe blacktop, always proving wrong the great ones.I want to be fake like the peoplewearing costumes holding signsfor deals at stores just days from closing.Abandoned pocket knives redirect raysfrom between blades of grassleft […]

Burnout

Do your best not to worry about itanother steep hill covered in variousgravel you can slide down all too easily.Get over the fence quicklyand let the chain link rattlein the night while all those headlightschase your shadow through the side yards.You create static on a family’s televisionby climbing up the antenna to their roof,and look […]

Font

I’m afraid of what it costs to get a partof what we had before restoredto what it should be, or maybe could beif we took it even further. A lake surrounded by people on the shorelineworking overtime on taking it too easy.Grasshopper symphonies like the ambianceof memories I cannot even accesssince I’m sinking into shallows […]

Pile

Sand conforms to the bottomof a bottle and the paint they’velet run over every surface of the poolis making everything uncertain somehowcolorful. Gas station shelves half stocked becausethe workers are revolting over window timeand the ability to finally cut in line,to take the last of what is leftamong the pile. The six packs are really […]

Generations

She goes to sleep at midnightjust like I do,and the bathing suit she’s trying onto point out all the things she thinksare wrong are really everythingthat’s perfect in the first place.Construction in a dirt field with a pictureon a sign of what it could be if we justleft them alone is getting rained onmaking everything […]

Bait

Bird chirping hoursalways show up when you’d ratherstill be sleeping in your coffinwith nothing but a pocket knife and flashlight.Plastic playhouse furniture is the only placeto sit here anymore and as the sun is bentdirectly through the enormous concavewindows they all melt down into candle waxand creep along the tile floor forever.I make a point […]

Photograph Of A Photograph

In dreams I tell second hand storiesabout people I think I’ve met before but haven’t.The memories of meeting themseem realer than the dream itself,but when I wake up I soon realizethat those memories were just a backgroundaround everything. I worry about what that meanswhen I am walking aroundsome street I’ve clearly walked beforebecause now I […]