I caught
a grasshopper, deep in the fields, sipping lemonade; where too a
tricycle,
for rusted dreams, a son’s childhood; and prior to knowledge,
to
know of cocaine, to forge visions; where mother perished, a postal
post
office, tearing fingernails. Its spider bites, and butterfly passions,
to
curtail reality. Its movies and popcorn,
to pause the pace, a spaced-out
look.
It’s the littlest gestures, to capture on camera, to feign for joy;
whereto—it
was, a sickly calm, a city of bathing suits.
I saw for riches,
and
bags of currency, and fashion magazines. We melted marshmallows,
and
crumbled gram-crackers, to smear the agony. Its microwave joys, to
forfeit
knowledge, to hear for comforts; but ever a maze, and pajama
tears,
to listen for fights. I left in self,
a harsh reality, an altered ego;
where
mother perished, to feign for gold, despite the odors. We hassled
life,
and questioned love, to cut with precision; and more the crumbs, to
re-rock
‘caine, a small legacy. We roller’d for skates, a bit aggressive, for a
passive
nature; where butter’s a memory, to hustle a baby-sitter, a pair of
tricked
dice. Now for grief, to see for alligators, to purchase a brain;
where
roots churn, to hear for phones, ringing outdoors; and mother died,
a touch of riddles,
to wonder for why.
