Last month
on the 9th
It was Richard Nixon's birthday
and the nightly news said nothing.
The Monday night dancers
tangled on the floor
"You are my sunshine" floated over the crowd
as I finished the blues with Jacob.
the accordion of time
exhaled one note
between Memories
and your front door.
Then the newest stranger knocked,
ready to collect her things and vanish
like so much wind over dried grass.
As you spoke
movie theatre projectors
Spilled from your mouth
clattered on the floor
made a mess our story
Last month
On the 9th
My father’s ghost turned 68
Blueberry Kush swirled
In the back of my head
gathered in my living room
made a phantasm of my pain.
*subject to revision at any time and actively soliciting comments.
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