—SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY, THE DOTS DIDN’T ALL CONNECT. THE PROMISE BECAME REGRET.

Salvador Dali Days

Here I am, sculpting the jaundiced air again with a faulty spatula and one lactose intolerant lung.

 What I’m trying to say is (…)

What I thought I heard you ask was (…)

 Everything is carnal and flaccid, the pope wondering, Where’s Confucius when you need him?

Last night someone barbed my teeth and filleted my tongue, two kindnesses in a single evening.

 Last night someone overdosed on couch space and a grandfather clock with too many loose teeth.

Take a peek through the screen.

 See? The neighbor’s dog is holding an old couple for ransom.

Even the squirrels brandish machetes these days.

 What I’m getting at is (…)

Everyone I love wears excess debt in their beard, calluses fornicating in their throats so heady that the windows blush plum and plug their ears.

 It’s Hopelandic, but also (…)

So, to the ladder I go, top step, where the air tastes like gravy and vodka.

 I grab the goose down belly of the nearest cloud and shake, shake, shake it like a Polaroid picture.

I watch vowels and consonants raining down, all our stories, all our fears out there on the lawn, ready for surgery, mouth to mouth resuscitation, the touch of someone who craves them.