A platform: smiling with my liver.
I want a brave haircut so you will
know I am, call me
Most likely you do not know
I am dead serious
most of the time.
I shoot cannons and you go ha ha.
This is something like repetition,
something like life.
Yesterday was strange
to feel grown up. I held my shoulders
back—statue’d told no one
this is how it feels, does not feel.
Then Peter Pan came
asking to the window, how do you
like your air--dehydrated or fried?
We ate off a large white plate
It was something like life.
Now it is today and my hands shake.
You will not know unless I tell you
I keep a picture of a lady in my freezer. Her eyes
beside the peas know all. I want to marry her,
but she is dead.
Tonight I will take off my shoes
and my blender will speak back.
Creatures have a way of recovering.
I will leave the plant where it fell out the window.