On that lawn each morning a little girl’s sandal rests in the grass. Today the flip-flop for weeks became a pink gellie, the color of my skin disease, but lighter. The white truck gassing mosquitoes just whined by in the dark, convincing no one. I wonder, as if to say goodbye, if the driver has a newspaper on his bench seat. I just got bit. After Labor Day, the ice cream van that played the theme from“The Sting” and Bach fugues stopped making its crawling rounds. I just now noticed it gone. Soon it will be summer again, I believe for a moment. Vampires are cool. That’s why they are so cool. I could explain everything, will be my last joke. My arrangements are not up to date. I prefer Basie’s. The rumor around the mill village is that a nuclear scientist haunts my house. I have denied nothing. I like to look at salt even more than I like to use it, it is so clean and chaste, making the heavy water lighter, lighter than the sea that drained from his scalpeled cheek in the midst. That shoe, later it got rained on, almost sweetly, but too late.
Further Reading
Purple Rain and Queerspawn Creation Myth
by Isaiah Yonah Back-Gaal
“Once, I was a boy. / Tonight, there is a sunset.”
Cities and Years by Frederick Pollack
1 I seem to live on and on. Perhaps I should make more of an effort. But while I still hobble— rather like Chaplin, that first angel of popular culture to descend to us— I’m included in groups like this. And group photos, once we have crossed the quadrangle of whatever college this is. (It […]
On the Four Train to the Ends of the Moon by Rob Cook
In the boy’s hand the cell phone sleeping, a tiny animal. He found it this morning curled inside his coat pocket. When he places it against his ear, does the animal plant its eggs? When the boy presses it deeper, can he hear its brain trembling? Can he hear the man named Arturo sitting beside […]
