those shit parties

shit those parties that
are so crowded but you are
the only one there
you drink out of a red solo and wonder
why the fuck am I here
why does anyone come to these
and you weep a little
for all those
who ever lived
and got drunk 4 nothing

Gold and Blue

every contour of your muddied pants appears

at the overlaps of shadows formed from colored 

glass slides layered over each other. 

have you laid down in the mud by choice?

fingers digging at it through your hair in thick 

greasy strands the glue that makes up the frame 

sucking and pulling in a private shame.

a fistful of c-47s, we're a stack of sheets
blowing around in the dusty grey highway
--and you trace a line 6 hours long
on the palm of your hand--

this chained line signifies but points only to another signifier
which signifies another signifier--a great boring
chain of being who strangled a toddler in Tucson in 1996

and your little horizontal lines--
indicate you build
things--

we don't remember--
facts, facts, everywhere
but not a drop to drink

we are not tied
by strings or
fate

we are not tied
by anything but

maybe the will to put effort into this

girls with naturally straight teeth

I'd give you a soft push
off a flight of hard stairs
just for all the things
your dentist doesn't say to you

grounded

a painting is on the wall

you can see it while you wait in the security line

tampa international airport

terminal

there’s a woman and a man hugging in front of a plane while another woman

watches and cries.

you can tell he’s leaving

not arriving

you can see the sinking feeling in their stomachs

that we all get as we drive up to an airport because

it’s not natural to be in the sky.

think of all the people

that miss other people

that wouldn’t be missing other people

if we all just stayed on the ground.