a big chief tablet
& a jumbo round
pencil & I’m back
in kindergarten
writing letters
over & again
& even now
my handwriting
loops & scrawls
& bounces above
the line as if
my fingers never
learned to foxtrot
with words as
fast they come

so many Nissan Sentras
in the community college
overflow parking lot

I want to take the short cut
across the long way
around the block and back

I want to eat the blackberries
on the old tree hanging
over the new deck
of the house we used to live in
when we loved liked lovers
sneaking around our friends

I want to watch the sun set
on the warm sand by the lake
we used to swim in
when we were younger
and looked better
with no clothes on
in the daylight

I want to tell you nothing
up close and personal
in your ear again like before
but you don’t want to hear
about that anymore

walking home
through red leaves
drifting in dark rain

the shortcut runs ‘long
the tracks ‘cross hills
& bridges too far
to skirt so just
go left where the
taco shop used to
be ‘fore they built
the freeway & then
hang a right where
the old barn burnt
down in ’73 & you
should get there
just fine & on time

the apple doesn’t fall
far from the tree
which is why you
need to pick up
those damn apples and
fling them as far
as you can so
they splatter and spray
and spread their seeds
far and wide and soon
you have an orchard
or maybe just a
bunch of smashed apples

on art

no one wants
a wet pringle
except the dog
but he eats
his own shit
& you let him
lick your face
so tell me
again about the
paradox of taste