Wrestling infants (reclaimer)
Under bridges (silken strings)
Under oath that broke a thousand times.
This isn’t the end. Mother noticed the cap wasn’t closed. Confession rolls off the tongue.
“It's okay. I wish all my employees were just like you.”
I choke. I cry. Mother placed a towel on my bed.
I lay down to sleep. A soiled rag. Cat vomit. Covered in insect bites. Suddenly at work.
“You need a doctor immediately.”
Chemical imbalance. Genuine concern. Timeless fortune locked away. Deep, deep, deep in the darkness...
Containers and shipping yards.
Take the wheel, we may get pulled over.
Flashing lights, red and blue splashed in the blackness. I palpitate.
Officer down, spinning out. Rubber pealing on walls, echoes in a maze.
The arrival. One true box. Our final resting place.
Lost and Found sat smiling on a table.
To my surprise, the container was unlocked.
Open Sesame Street.
The box swings open…
The happiest thing ever put to film.
One of these days, clear and blue, these lies will tell themselves.
Are you a mirror or a statue of knots?
The contortionist, cartoonist, isolationist?
The melting eye, caved-in walls, the ceilings we scuttle across?
I think not.
You look like someone who knows what they want. You look like somebody famous.
The curtains come crashing to the Earth.
Popcorn on a string.
A giant foam thumb shoots into the sky.
Trunks explode into leaves.