Skip to main content

Featured

running away with the circus (looking for dolphins)

There are three of them, a brazen woman with bright eyes and a big voice, a man going grey with a hop in his step and a younger woman who might be their daughter or their niece that twists her short hair into little tufts. They roam the hotel, sometimes in elaborate costumes, letting us know that there will be a secret dance party near the ballroom in an hour.

The older woman strolls in during dinner in a costume of blinking Christmas lights and exotic face paint. V stares up at her, convinced she is a princess or a fairy or maybe both. The next night, she is all in black, great horns wobbling on her head. She always has a pair of black Converse high tops on, as if they go with every costume or maybe they are the only shoes she owns.

The man is typically dressed as a pirate, in a striped shirt, maybe an eye patch. He is perfectly relaxed, like his limbs are made of silly straws. The younger woman is always smiling, her mouth a wall of metal braces and lip gloss. I imagine they sleep …

Postcards from late summer

The ground in front of the bargain

wedding chapel is littered with

shiny plastic hearts and stars

and small coins. We

squat on the pavement

shoving them into

our pockets.


I bring my guitar home

and we play on the fire escape

you with your tiny, tiny

violin tucked under

your chin.

Me, playing songs from

an empty living room

before you were born

when I used to see

the towers

outside the dirty

glass of my

bachelor windows.


It’s time to buy

a watermelon now

not too big

and it needs to sound

like a drum.


They stopped

building the skyscraper

behind

our place. Maybe it’s

for offices,

maybe for homes.

A crane sits motionless above

the half-built

skeleton, in

a cloudy sky, a wet

night, a windy Sunday. But someone

had the idea to

inflate a great

red balloon inside the

structure

and put lights

inside it

so at night

it beats like a giant

heart, against the dark sky

a giant heart, counting

out the minutes

until the crane

will move, or maybe

until the

snow will come.


The leaves are already turning

yellow.



Comments

Popular Posts

best personal blogs
best personal blogs