the game of life

a couple of drinks too many
four of us are playing board games

Brian's car veers over to the child
space, where a convenient card awaits
him
"Congratulations on your baby boy!"
Yvonne asks, "Who's having your children?
Who's having your children if it's not me?"
she says it like she's joking
but also like her voice
is holding a knife to his
testicles

she's playing bored games

Brian says, "Uhhhhh..."

women always win

but what's the use, anyway?

shuttling a breeze through my house
by letting the windows out
a swirling promenade of leaves
ego-centric, centripetal motion, i think

i hang between two caves
to be with you and
always to be alone

but today wasn’t so bad
i invited someone into my house
i fed and wrapped them
in my blanket of murmurs
and whispered joys

little by little
some part is
always escaping

but don’t let it go too soon
too soon
let it hang
softness in the mouth

people keep speaking numbers of death

mother

father

20% chance of this

10%

40%

aggressive

nonaggressive

I thought those words referred

to school children

Nicer Than Bukowski

today
I devised a metaphor
on learning women

I said it is like
climbing a mountain

on your way up,
full of adrenaline
praising your own hard work

once a month you are
stuck in a blizzard,
screaming
"I'M GOING TO DIE OUT HERE"

some clear day,
you reach the summit

now you just have to
make it back down.

please don't touch
my liver I cringe and
shy away from
the knife
the needle
the whiskey

it is a lovely wake

palms flat
i smooth out
my dress and step
into the confessional

forgive me father for
my rosary is around
my rear view mirror
since i only fuck in my
car anymore

oh oh oh
he breathes
and pauses

can I get your number, father?
i ask without stopping

mars bar (she says scary shit)

we're running out of chocolate, she says
did you read that article too, scary shit
no what are you talking about
nevermind, protecting her from fear
we observe a bed full of wrappers
we eat when feel happy too

run, the shadow of my youth

How can I escape
the gauzy redundancies
of your white underclothes
bunched up to your thigh

perforations as doors
moth wings as couriers
luxuriantly furred

How can I escape
the triple chess game
the sweat on your brow
rolling to the crease of your lip

polar bears have it easy

the fabric of my T-shirt
is thinner than my
father's hair

I specifically did not
want to be naked
but
my nipples are traitors
sharing insider information
with the entire grocery store

oh, refrigerated food section
you are a cold mistress

acts of espionage
through
my cotton shirt--
two little betrayals
the size of
quarters