things we want to say

When your friend grows uncomfortable wearing black clothes
and what looks like the happiest pollen on concave roofs
sheltering enthusiasm before it grows sore
from smiling too wide at strangers

Repelling those asking too many questions
exhausts and empties the spray can
so signs are waved from highways
without lengthy scary names

She will walk down window ledges
fingers which drip of fast-drying primer
that coddle and settle thick paints down
reluctant as the bottle of a cousin’s Benadryl

Branches rattle the longer she talks
about the last she drank in dimmed light
and for each word shed you crush three petals
loud but disappearing in the navy blues of freed pleats

*Scraped Knees is available on Amazon, in paperback and through Kindle.

taking care

I scratch my head, befuddled
and rattled, just a bit.

groups of three arriving soon,
extra packet of sugar inching
deeper into singularity’s core,
rainfall shines off tiny teeth.

I shouldn’t see the surprise,
mattress stuffed with old news.

foam laughing on a flat surface,
breaking into stairs the way
eyes become lime green flashlights,
extrapolating truth from debate.

I continue to walk cautiously
like children hiding candy.

Cat No. 83 of the 500 Cats Project