Poetry

In the town of his mind
a government truck haunts
the streets. It tows a vapor trail
of white miasma for miles
like an endless albino snake.

It's true, with only a crook
of callused forefinger for
hook, I’ve caught my limit
of sky-blue Coho on the Kenai
River, their scaly sequins lingered
on my cuticle slivers for days, and
days, then

when I conjured the Kabuki sex puppets
against a backdrop of weeping willow, Mid-
night Sun and safflower seeds, my busy digits

Downsize yourself;
take a few inches off
from below the knees.
Hobble across the office
and prostrate yourself
before yourself,
weeping uncontrollably.

the college experience
one of the most anti-
climatic traumatic
non-stimulating
experiences
with your
token mini-
refrigerator
constantly
equipped
with 6 packs
of coors beer
and 6 packs
of pop tarts

we shared baths, we shared names and
a father, shared voices some could not
decipher between one and the other

but our bodies different, our blood
not the same – yours buried deep beneath
olive skin, toned muscles and thin

hips – mine cushioned at the surface,
no secrets to tell, all out on my face, cheeks
that burned and swelled when exposed

to sun or the words we whispered

all the books we couldn’t afford
and cases of beer,
expensive liquor
We’d just walk out with them
under our coats or sometimes
out in the open like we’d
already paid
keeping an even pace
You were the same as me,
at least in the respect
You could steal anything
nailed down, chained or otherwise

We were drunk for
three months straight
I’d dropped out but you were

I have nothing for you but spit and hot
nails. Let her be sad, but don’t expect much
from me, ‘cause it’s always about your pa,
and you never did nothing but inherit
the line and the right way to hold a gun.
Your old man taught you proper kickback one
stiff noon hour outside Billings, with the butt
in your shoulder and your feet set just so.