you have got to be kidding me
August 10, 2011
you have got to be kidding me
you strapping me in a stroller
you correcting my dreams
you gently breaking lies over my head
you giving it to me fluffy not straight
you popping your head around the corner over and over
you skipping in your evening wear
you giving me juice instead of water
you recoloring my pictures
you
dropping me off at the curb
with an empty bottle of my heart pills
and bill for your chemo
in the near hailing rain
and this isn’t my pharmacy
and i don’t know where
i really am
but it’s radio explosion loud
like a hammer
and the food that you people eat
that burns right through me
now that i’m made of butter
and dandelion that doesn’t float
anymore and is stuck to an
old ice cream cone being
eaten by green ants who keep
grabbing my behind as a joke
while they chitter on
their phones in
broken sentences i half
understand but
shouldn’t
hear because it’s not polite
but we’re shouting
we’re screaming
we’re pasting
the wall with our beliefs
with our fears
with the fountains of many blessed
gum mounds on my shoes
destroying the last
dog lick of my ankle
crouching,
popping,
stinking,
and my hand is a dollar short
but you are telling me there’s no lotto today.
you are kind lady,
but you have got to be kidding me.
i have wings.
i am a moth.
it’s time to eat the skies.
m.
