If Tears Could They Would

Images come quick for The Quick.
The Dead, however (tortured with reflection
scratching that chalky, nostalgic
portion inside their skull), stand in procession

waiting for their turn to view
a mental film, of sorts.  There are a few
who upon retrieving their negative strip
pose the questions: Whose fishing trip

was this?  How did that trout taste
in my mouth?  For some it’s a waste—
the visages are more than they can bear
and they thank The Prankster for their

recently vacated sockets; while
others in the single file might offer a smile
if flesh still existed.  If…tears
could they would smear

the emulsion—swirling the black
& white stains into new eidetic
conceptions.  Who is this
couple tying The Knot?  How much did it
cost the two of us?  Looking back,
perhaps everything was inverted—mis-

matched (with the exception of the jux-
taposed color scheme of the tux,
of course).  Afterwards it’s back to the ground,
and if tears could they would heal
the celluloid rerun wound
around the antique reel too real.

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Breakfast In Mexico

There was a period of roughly
7 seconds where the sound of the tide
outside our balcony was perfectly in
synch with the rise & fall
of her eyelids, barely hiding irises aching
for dilation. Black hair—raven-pitch tendrils on the pillow

next to me. A lizard sunbathing on a clay rail
made movements both furtive and infinitely
still. How far have we come?
As the crow flies: 1,283 miles.
We will make it at least knee deep
into The Gulf—both hands clutching
sand. I have a picture, taken with the intent
to prove it.

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Contact Solution

He was known for sleeping with women
who owned no hands

and it wasn’t always his fault—sometimes
these women screwed on

those plastic mannequin hands as a joke
or trick; later finding them soaking

in some contact solution next to
their Mother’s smoke-stained lingerie.