Threeve

The barker told the children clearly every night, “Stay close to your mothers. The show could get scary.” But this night he had a fever and wanted to lay down and he thought maybe he wasn’t talking about now, in proximity, but about later––how to stay warm, dry. Secos.

This is what I heard of Possibly Paraguay Bluffs on the right side Wooden and Victorian Each angle out of square Hung on the cliff side Families in their routine Hanging from the same ropes Laughing when their hair is blown Dusty, hot, high desert Cliff house kids Is it for an audience? Seems like we’re out of place Cameras turned the wrong way Helmet, harness No way Cliff house kids

We have seen the man who wades to his knees along Mill Creek in secret. Tightly bunched and folded along his neck was a finely knotted net of simply fishing line. So tedious, it must have taken weeks, powered by American Food. At home they have the sea but all the competition. In Tennessee there’s neither. I’m sure we startled him. Rocks tied along the edges for weight––his grandfather’s trick. He must have come from the future.

Nectarines are a little too tough. Such a great idea, though. I prefer the mush of the peach, hot on the side of the road. Hundreds of flavors, millions of shades, just for a dollar or two. I get so hungry when I wake up, anything will do. Best time to try something I hate. There’s a sweat bee on my finger. Seems to be a friend. Flies away and comes right back again. Little stinger. Little wings. Little tiny things to make a baby cry. Peach and apple. Back and forth. Nectarines are a little too tough.

Any way to make that cleaner, clearer, more concise? Cleaner, Clearer, More Concise

Patient How can I be when all I hear are your calls for me? Patient You’re all I wanted. You’re all I wanted but you make me crazy. Patient I know you’re fragile. Do you realize I am, too? Patient I’m gonna need you. Will you take me with you? Patient You’re all I wanted. You are my girl, but you make me crazy. Will you take me with you?

Merry Christmas, Sugar I Love You I Love You, Sugar I Love You, Sugar Love You

Color, sound, snow, salt, ignores Takes the air, the breath with it, fastidious Lost track of the smell, so funny, yeehaw, funny funny Angry recovers, elated recovers Loves but forgets the lowland grandmother The wired remote Woof woof woof hey What’s the score? How much time? Who’s the new girl? Heavy, barreling, clean Polite stylish dedicated covers the weathered neck Color sound snow salt Ignores takes the air the breath with it Flattered, almost recovers Loves but forgets the lowland grandmother Forgets the soft, the medium, The old magazine sleeve, the child’s telephone The wired remote

Why did it start? A nurturing instinct. An only child. Me with two big brothers and no one to talk back to. A rite for both of us. A mass email about wedding plans. The most boring thing imaginable. You’d think something is the matter with me. Almost two decades worth. Gosh again. Blackout. Gosh. Almost two decades worth. Gosh again.