EphemeraMore Like This
I found an old map of my life in the closet today,
worn almost to the point of tearing.
It was burnt at one end, my birth I suppose.
Pieces of it still crumble when I'm not careful.
The first roads are drawn in crayon and lead only in circles.
There is a picture of a man sitting at a table shaped like the moon
somewhere around my sixth birthday.
My father perhaps. I don't remember.
By the age of eleven the first small houses appear,
my friend Tommy with his German Shepard shooting cap guns,
further down, real guns, another hole. Of course
none of this is to scale. The first graves appears at age
twelve, my grandmother is drawn wearing a black dress
made of constellations. I stand next to her holding a toy spaceship.
By this time the trees behind my house are quite detailed,
their leaves cut from old green food stamps. The compass
is backward. West is East. South is missing.
There is a
Sommerliches DreieckMore Like This
I found your heart in the lost property box
many people had handed you in
but no-one had ever come to collect
I tricked the keeper
to letting me have you for 1 hour
with him not knowing
that, that 1 hour
would be my whole life
In AbsentiaMore Like This
That's my wife sprawled on the living room floor, drunk on living in this suburban ferment. In desperate need of decanting, I open the doors.
There she is, a contorted mannequin before a pool of life, off in the deep end. I wonder what she's dreaming. I'm a doctor, by the way but honest to God, I dont really want to find out. I dont specialize in drunks.
Yet, here I am, my eyes, fixed on her stillness. You know, the first time we met, it was just the same. She was staring off into some Warhol display at the art gallery. Sometimes I think thats why I married her for this serenity. I fell in love with her absence that fleshy shell while she slept, turned away, or wandered off into the ether but once she came back to the land of the conscious, she was just just another woman. Maybe I should have waited a hundred more years or bought