i remember when we used to strive to be good, to be better.
it wasn't so hard, to be better than ourselves
though now that we have to better than everyone else, too
it's suddenly impossible to be anything more
and we don't think about it

i could smell the carnage of flowers from nearby
at the bus stop that everyone driving by thought was strange
to see someone standing at from the weird looks they gave me
it was carnage i had felt necessary to induce
necessary?
nothing is necessary
the juice had been red like thinned blood
they had looked dead already, but i was no one to decide that
it wasn't a decision, though
--an in advertent act of boredom.

when do we stop growing up and start dying?

i've given up on most of it by now, and i'm going crazy
and it was something of a harrowing passion
that led me to believe this stuff, his words
continuing on.

it makes me so sick, it's even hard to laugh at.
i'm embarrassed for her. even though she's never will be.

those rays of heavenly light
pierced through every opening in the connected gray clouds
pouring through to reflect off the ocean,
back to that misty ceiling
and it is just an endless room full of water.

the most beautiful water i ever saw was a marsh
weak trickles, brown green froth at the edges
short lush water grass
fish, jumping, flying out of the shallow water
long legged white birds, marsh herons, alighting without splash or splish
smaller black and white water birds flying low to catch elated fish.

with such bright moral turpitude
he spouted his apologies
all with a question in his eyes
and a shaking in his hands and knees
but he held out his arm for me to take
and i lightly put my fingers on his crooked elbow
"it's all in the book," i said
he nodded and pulled my arm to hook with his
and then we skipped, yes skipped,
right down that yellow brick road.