PUNK HAIR

I walked by the teens
at the cornerstore
saw the hip-slung shorts
drooped tank-tops
and wondered if they knew Matt
who punked his hair like them

no one in the family
saw it as different
until he asked us
to his wedding

THE HOUSE-GUEST

the spider under the stairs
pulls cat-hair into his web
spreads jam on cardboard
bakes hamburgers with TV ads
and eats them at 8 a.m.
when the taxi calls to pick up worn shoes

he lies on blankets knitted with whiskers
calculates the number of cakes
to make a birthday
while weaving digested novels
into a crib for the girlfriend
he discarded at the last motel
south of town
with our last unwanted guests

BESIDE ME

the lime-green girl
dress hands face
and straight blond hair
stepped into the road
in front of my car
remains standing
quite still
after I hit her

she walks in my head
every night
shaking green hands
at me
with closed eyes

---

Return to CONTENTS