kent park is not fenway park,
but there is a baseball diamond and
people run round the bases
and round and around they go
late at night
high on something
hungry for someone no longer there,
itching at an already amputated limb,
like suicides reappearing in
new bodies and new tongues.
*painting by colorsetbrushes
they give an immigrant a t-shirt
her three kids get one too,
says the name of the city and country on the front.
i like their smiles.
maybe they’ll be on a tourist brochure one day.
i have coins to exchange for some beer so i do and
walk to the railroad tracks and make a toast
to that immigrant family,
hoping they feel good in their new land of less death
and i make a second toast,
to the suicides
who didn’t feel so good in this land of less death
i take a big swig and
hope everyone feels a little bit freer
wherever their next step may be.
it was in between the winds
when a squirrel and i caught eyes.
we were both scared
both loitering outside the 7/11.
the squirrel looked like a paranoid crack addict
probably felt like one too.
this must be the first station along love’s journey i thought
or maybe this is a wild west stand-off and
we’re smelling each other out,
in preparation for the kill,
but then it went on longer and
we went past the public relations courtesy point and into
that strange space when
dots in that squirrel’s life started to connect with mine
and vice versa.
that’s when the paranoia and synchronicity spread their wings,
held hands too
and a gust of wind kicked into gear
disturbing the up above leaves.
or maybe they weren’t disturbed.
maybe they liked being turned around,
exposing their under belly other side,
that pale nuclear ash side
because with every ensuing gust,
the leaves twirled back and forth
electric fresh green one second and
pale nuclear ash the next,
two sides of the same life i thought and
so i decided that must be the sound of wind.
i should watch insects a little longer before stomping them dead.
a golden lab’s jaw tucked over its curled paw soothes me like a binge.
i stumble onto a song and
into my mp3,
into my ears.
walk around like a possessed robot
play guitar on my thigh
a bass player is mellow like glue
did 10 days already pass?