There’s a half-frayed, frazzled wit,
an accumulated drift, washed-ashore,
dragonflies flying over a digital reef-
kind of life — we’re projectors of this flickering
clock… Are you shining like a thought possessed?
Ringing like a heart string plucked?
I swear sometimes I don’t watch where I’m going
until I’m already there. I can not look up for three minutes
through the canyons of L.A. All the time steering
diligently staring at a text bible emoji Sanskrit lullaby.
A neon pant split in a crosswalk sprint. I come to you.
The come-down voodoo masquerading as a scarlet stain.
I see stars and scars on sunsets and your bra on Sunset
Boulevard. I don’t blame you for grabbing
one of the shards. The blood charging
through your fingers. The middle ones extended
and lingers, like a photo of sea mist
on a 22 year-old’s Pinterest.
Call me California Joe. Corona in the silver can.
Blue sky natural tan hollow coconut brain game.
Call me if you can.
There is melody in the way the words wallow
like a woozy sailor anchored in sleepy hollow.
When my tongue speaks my charm leaks
and I’m along for the ride, help us all.
When the heimlich saves the heiress and slips your pocket
fifty dollars because she’s embarrassed and the moon
danced back like Michael Jack, that’s my fondest memory.
New shoes watching for puddles
bananas are really cheap —
there’s no point to that.
It’s just something I’ve noticed.
I got to watch where I step.
Filters and bandages and miscarriages.
Old Bay Seasoning. Des Moines, Iowa.
I stand on land not native to me.
I’m the son from space, pumpkin spice latte.
The Autumnal Apocalypse, I’m whispered
carelessly away on a bobbing apple breeze.
But still the falling leaf saved me,
my little tender tornado.
Avocado toast bitch