you sat on a bench
with nothing to do
under a sun
that gave you
no excuse to move?
at last able
to scan this painting
you barely live in
always rushing threw it
so quickly the colors blur
and details bend
as it shrinks in your
rear-view mirror
now at rest
it’s the world’s turn
to notice you
perhaps move in closer
to see if something
might be wrong
because of that
serene look
on your face
can’t remember how I became the family’s melon-cutter the one-handed wash and dry of a cannon ball is no easy trick nor is sawing through its armor plate to make deliverable fruit wedges unless I slic
Why the sly look Mr. Washington on your dollar bill? even the flash of a single tooth might say Yeah, man! and Abe Really? that faraway face on your five spot is the best you could do? you Mr.’s H
who isn’t in a fight with one thing or another battling weight struggling for money in the crossfire of an argument how about those invisible tanks we send to stop or even push back time? and then the