Shifty

February 1, 2013 in Poetry, Words with Comments Off

I know you don’t believe me.

I know you don’t believe me when I say

I touched the brick path with my red boots and they lit up, not yellow, but blue, and I found my way, striped socks and all.

I know you don’t believe me.

I know you don’t believe me when I say

I touched the shower tiles with my chipped fingernail polished fingers and the tiles gave way.

I know you don’t believe me.

I know you don’t believe me when I say

That Divination and Mysticism and Surrealism are as familiar to me as that woman named Candy with the blue eye shadow and the brown tooth, but I can’t ever say for sure where it was I first met any of them.

I know you don’t believe me.

I know you don’t believe me when I say

I collect secrets in my pillow case, secrets from the netherworld, and I speak back to them in burned pieces of paranormal journal ash carried on the wind.

I know you don’t believe me.

I know you don’t believe me when I say

My moments slide on a giant rubik’s cube frame, and when the square colors colide, rainbow sparks come out my ears.

I know you don’t believe me.

I know you don’t believe me when I say

The black scarf that nearly blew off of Dorothea’s head this morning as she rapped her keychain hard on the glass window

was the richest piece of life I’ve chewed on this week.

I know you don’t believe me.

I know you don’t believe me when I say

There is a postal truck somewhere between here and Maine that is carrying an envelope of echoes to me, and that postman’s hands are going to burn when he touches it.

I know you don’t believe me.

I know you don’t believe me when I say

The closet isn’t just a fling or an escape, it’s a Reality Laboratory where alchemic formulas involving X amount of reality always result in Y amounts of poetry and sometimes I’m Jekyll and sometimes I’m Hyde but I always love the luxury of not having to pick just one.

I know you don’t believe me.

I know you don’t believe me when I say

My body is split in half. One side is a brick and one side is a sponge. And the sponge has been used way more than the brick and the brick is getting jealous.

I know you don’t believe me.

I know you don’t believe me when I say

The plastic cups that lean sideways, one nesting inside the other, are cowards. Every last one of them tucked up in another just exactly like the next and it makes me nauseous.

I know you don’t believe me.

I know you don’t believe me when I say

When the old men scoot their chairs loudly across the floor I think it looks far more promising then that nervous woman who is always sliding plastic bottles of water across the counter. (I feel certain those men will live forever.)