the screen
bleary-blurry
before breakfast
I stumble through
news of war &
rumors of war
while my cat
licks & ponders
his ass &
isn’t this
the plight
of our
existence

lemon is not
the cure for
everything
from wax
build-up to
sore throats
to sink de-
greaser but
damn if it
doesn’t make
sugar water
taste damn good

the sky this evening
was something else
a rutabaga perhaps
or an elephant
trumpeting joy
in pink swaths or
candy floss sticky
sweet & empty
yet satisfying
as all midwestern
things can be

the summer storm
swept in from the south
with winds whipping
trees to fury;
a duck’s hiss of hail
pummeling us to safety

what unexpected luck
to find the greyed lean-to
in the middle of the wood
your hair a mess of wet
stuck to your forehead,
your t-shirt clinging
like the old flame
I would soon become

& isn’t it just
like a storm
to suck the air
out of an unwalled
room & leave
you panting &
wanting more than
anyone can give

sometimes a goose
is just a goose
but sometimes
it’s a murderbot
so don’t stop
the car, gary

it’s never what
you think it is
but thank god
it isn’t what you
thought it wasn’t

outbound plane:
heat waves on tarmac
propel empty promises