harbor tunnel at 3:31am before Christmas

like eggshells
how they crack apart
except in here
over and over
like a blink, the white light walls
split into a slide show:

remember, lil sis,
using egg whites
to glaze the raw
sugar cookie Christmas dough…

blink.

remember our lil hands
tearing bread to top
“the egg dish” that
delicious Christmas morning food…

blink
the white light walls
frame a white utility van
at the tunnel’s end,
its tailights steady — oh
i think i’m moving
but it never gets any closer.

they will never pull me under with their gold teeth

In a hush hush voice, he creeps through the door and says, “follow me” and I go knowing what is behind that door but pretending a surprise because I need the adventure and the adrenaline and they say it’s good for me, every once in awhile, to get away from the cold food served on blue trays. So follow him, I do, through the darkened doorway and out into the sunshine of a cloudless day. He holds my hand and shows me a pond, green slime-topped with huge goldfish lurking underneath, eating algae and growing bigger and bigger and I know they will eat me if they have the chance with their gold teeth that matches the sun if you look at the angle right. He tells me to throw the bread crumbs into that slimy mess of a pond and feed the fish but I know they want to eat me with their gold teeth and make me their breakfast on this fine day and that if I throw the bread, I will die.

I put the bread into my mouth to protect it and he says in that hush hush voice, “now now” and reaches into my slimy mouth to retrieve what has already disintegrated into paste. I have saved myself to live another day with my blue trays and rocking chair but the thing is I don’t know why. He seems bored. My skin is burning from this outing and I want to go back inside, away from vicious goldfish and cloudless skies. He says in his hush hush voice, “Maybe tomorrow, you can feed the fish, they really like you, you know, they really do.” He takes my hand and I follow him back through that darkened doorway. The goldfish swim on angry as we take our leave. They leave trails in the slimy water while I lick my teeth with my tongue that tastes of stale bread. I say over again in my own hush hush voice, “they will never pull me under with their gold teeth.

country song 3- jack (in e major)

i see it when his eyes change shape
across smoke swung lingering in bars the same
across hands cold holding sweating drinks
through endless meetings with simple names

burdens of the stonewall sleeping dead
ones who tease tickling dreaming eyes
those stupid faces and stupid chances while
far away from him and her, sometimes i

deal a hand of solitaire
he loves me most when he leaves me there

i see it when his eyes change shape
across smoke swung lingering in bars the same
me, i’ll find a line of whiskey shots
then burn a memory of his fragile face

tomorrow if he wakes in time to see
i’m lacing up my running shoes
pack a sack with Jack Kerouac
find again him nothing good to lose

he says baby it’ll be like before
he says baby just make your way back through the door…

deal a hand of solitaire
you know he loves me most when he leaves me there

i’m through these tongue tastes of empty air
can’t have a memory of what was never there.