Driving from Romulus to Remus

I knew you best when you slept. The scar
on your face seemed deeper then. She called it your mark
of greatness, but we both knew it was the fault of the doctor.

It’s a tilted shot up the hand. Like the arcs from downed wires.
One hundred seventy miles from one arm to the other.
I drive past Castor Rd, past JFK Memorial Highway, and I’ve time
enough to wonder Pollux and Bobby are before the gas runs out.

November & it’s cold & I’m wearing your jacket. The blue one, with the insides
falling out. The burns from somebody’s cigarettes leave craters in the fabric.
I blow on my hands. The gas pump clicks.

& most days, I’m not sure how we made it. You can be Abel, I’ll be Cain.
Then we’ll switch. I do eighty, but the trip doesn’t go any faster.
If anything, it all slows down: raindrops are the hammers of glockenspiels
on the hood of my car—radio static melts, the dashboard clock blinks five at me

& we are idiot gods again, swilling beer, throwing rapture at parked
cars, waiting for the cornfields to catch fire. The train tracks
run over this viscosity of blood—knife deep. You light your cigarettes. I lick
the smoke and wait for the concrete to laugh.

& now I’m looking for Orion but I’m not sure if he’s out tonight. To me,
the stars come in packs, like wolves. But they’re bright & make me think
about colors & how I can never remember
if black is the absence of color or all of them combined.
You once told me gray was a cop-out, like beer
you can see through.

The dents on the hood of my car define their history for me, but I don’t care
because I’ve found Orion. Look for the belt, right?
The Hunter. What’s he after anyway? All that’s out
here is wheat and distance.

We’ll be Gemini. You sneak up on him, and I’ll take your place.
Then we’ll switch.

Oh Pretty Dear

Oh pretty dear
you get my star.

You kiss me
and two paper hearts
revolve around the sun.

When I'm with you,
say I do,
Lord, I really do.

I'll be here
in the morning,
floating.

Oh pretty dear
I hold it in.

What a LOVEly Poem!

THESE WHITE LIGHTS WILL BEND TO MAKE BLUE


lone mariachi
come pick me up
easy trigger
god takes care of the little things

come pick me up
make like paper
god takes care of the little things
expendable youth

make like paper
my tiger my heart
expendable youth
just to break free from a hundred families

my tiger my heart
round of applause for your stepmother
just to break free from a hundred families
anyone can play guitar

round of applause for your stepmother
lived in bars
anyone can play guitar
next round’s on the house

lived in bars
lone mariachi
next round’s on the house
easy trigger

Aphrodite

find the light distracting
from your form
emerging behind
imagine you dancing naked
it would never happen

It’s the piercing
of a thing that makes it
happen like you
melting in the water
forever indifferent
of your place above

and forever the pudgy bear
sewn up the middle
taking form in the collision
of water and light

the biggest little spoon
you ever saw

We need a love poem right?

Let's run to the Southeast


Hold each tooth in our mouth
until it grows through our bones as sap
into cool air. Press nose like hog and strut, sleep, sift
through scales and cleanliness
you can be my toad popping tooth
because muscles keep twitching
after death.