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Discount store stories, as if we needed a river, a new math for adding two and two. All the old stargazers gone blind these days. All the cardboard piled up in obscene ways. Some valley drive-by, all encompassed anti-aging creams the cashier swears by. Perfumed paper, hair, gloss, polish, remover, reliever, discover, deceiver. Who will come with gifts to uncover? Made up make up made from whale blubber. Come in to the sleeping season, the first day of reason. Melted ice from melting steel, lucite, graphite, pandora held tight. Why not a circle, a mobius strip? A lot of forgiveness for shooting from the hip…the safe trouble you brought in your pockets. The bus rides and life preservers stashed under the seats. Two oars that float just in case. A compass and waterproof matches. All the old lumberjacks with bad backs stuck holding empty red sacks. I’m skipping along the wrong side of the tracks. Don’t look back, they say…don’t look back. Or up high they say, don’t look down…don’t look down. Well, I’m already water, why not add salt. A pillar of pretty scars and faults. A billboard of blame, landmark of shame. Licked lucky and tame.
