p.a.b.

Raping the locks of glittergates
made not of gold but snowflakes
the walls I found there were
a perfectly stormy gray,
on an evening's fold

the children dressed as angels
and the angels dressed as children
and everyone but I with hair
they daily trimmed,
took to hiding keys.

And, I fucked a boy so sweet
that the milk of mine flowed
not from me, but from my soul.

Today my cousin, whom I
know her name and face, at least,
is getting married; I'm invited.

This has troubled me deeply
till today I thought, why
bringest sadness
to such joy?

For as we should know,
there truly is joy in joy
even between softly warring sweets
in bloodlines dispersed.

But I felt useless, as the chairs
were put away, and the bubbles
that we blew from the heads of
the plastic bride and groom
just weren't doing it for me anymore.

I stood around, and when I sat
I stared at these two girls,
one whom I realized was way too young
but I wanted to think she reminded me
of a character in my upcoming novel.

The other had black hair
she had curled like a doll's
and a dress like one too,
a paper doll.

I couldn't tell how old she was,
was she older than me?
Younger? Were those her children,
or her brother and sister?

I kept conversations going with
those cousins who weren't getting married
but only in my head did I rape the locks
as I did that night before.

Two cities over the air smelled as manure.
And the boy I stole for my picture
looked surprisingly like a girl,
and my armpits smelled
like melted butter,
while the thing on my neck
was probably cancer.

The girl who checked me out
said have an awesome day
taking the receipt I said,
you too, but later I
thought about my sweater
and her laying next to me
in the crowd of women and girls
that filled my room
I was naked and she was soft
and firm
she destroyed my anxiety
with excited words
and her tan skin
was her largest organ
and so soft and firm,
muscles underneath
her largest organ,
I was rode by a doe.

Only later did I realize
that my cousin had left my life
as their car drove away on the dirt
and that I hadn't been there
because she wanted me to,
but because I had to be.

The dismal day I had envisioned
slipped into a ping pong game
in the rain,
ham and cheese sandwiches,
in the rain,
well, really it was pizza.

Drum solos, green fields,
green hills awaiting Wal-marts
drum solos in detergent heavy air
garages where I felt if they had been mine,
my garages, I could of really had a band
and I felt connected, for a while,
to a family who laughed
at all my jokes
and was just as awkward as I
and I think, just as
sometimes awfully shy.