Damn it Graw you’ve got the sponge
on the wrong side of the ketchup bottle.
Have not shithead. And thus we drift

Matinées are the best time
for bad movies—squad cars
spewing orange flame, the telephone

Steam in the pipes.
Birdsong muted.
A prowl of cat.

“I seen it lots of times, I seen it, just from being on the street when something was going down, I seen kids get killed, a few, my buddy Jules got bucked, this gang he was down with, I mean he wasn’t even down with them when they started beefin with this other gang, but one day, it was hot, I remember it was real hot, 

1
The trees are equal to the wind tonight. 
Our thoughts are in a foreign town. One dream 
gives the lemon wings—and the orange flight.

You’re an eight-year-old
lying naked 
on the floor of your grandfather’s room,

What could be worse 
than its body 
inching out of the dark stuff

1. How I Would Paint the Future

A strip of horizon and a figure, 
seen from the back, forever approaching.

         Whatever is expressive 
about clumsiness (bad knees), 
        disproportion (potbelly, 

Chott

Through the tent flap, across the air mattress, up over my shoulder blade, 
The blindfold of sunlight slips into place. On your borrowed Walkman