Off the Dock

The fly is my mind. Was you buzzing my heart? Cuz I dropped a child in butter. Oh the little wheel. I spoke to you with little bubbles from my mouth the fish. Each bubble a word and a box. When your eyes split, the light from the sun gave me a beautiful hedge to peak over...or hide me. And I remembered how many wings I gave you. One for her cleavage, I should have left them alone but I'm weak there. I'm sorry. Two for picking strawberries when you ought not. Oh, you pulled out my eye. Remember? You wanted to see what I was thinking and I got it all over you.

I dread, you dead, my son, my son.

I wink, you sink, bah bum, bah bum.

The windows dropped out of the house today. The cement gave this tremendous shrug, a sigh really, ahhhhhh....it had had enough. It told me so as it slunk down the road to a different street. Your brother jumped from pane to pane. He's a sad boy.

Lalala my boy is sea,

Body is the wave,

That envelopes me.

Do you want ice cream? Who doesn't want an ice cream? We all crave ice cream. Scream! A cone of sweetness awaits you if you can find form or the keyhole. Yes, the keyhole. Your mother puts her knitting needle through it to entice you with a striped wool hat. She knits and disappears as the yarn spins and drops from her frame. She lost her piano...well the strings anyway. Just a hollow box now with room for bats. I worry about the pole she sits upon. The wire is exposed and she has soaked it with her water, her water she lets for you. Expelled like a geyser. She's so silly. Believes you will suddenly sit upon it, flopping and rolling on the hot blood. She gave you your veins, you know.

In a ball game we all stood in a line.

There was me and God and a dandelion.

You threw out the sponge that drank the sky.

Me you amazed and God you made cry.

He'll never forgive me for slipping in the dirt,

losing your tether, dropping her skirt.

The moment was warm inside her sweet box.

My lazy dropped ox, talks fondling rocks.

When I parted the curtain, when I dropped the J,

Your mittens were waving and wafting away.

I took my fucking hammer, I did. I fucking flailed on that bank. Those fucking rocks. Buddy, I smashed them to sand. And then I knew as the salted pebbles crept up and up, I needed a good swallowing. That and a black zippered bag like you got. I will pull those weeds. I will. If I ever get out of this earth that now harvests me. If God ever gets over his crest hideaway...I see him peering behind the peak – the pussy. He won't cut my strings. Cut 'em!!! He won't unless you ask him. Won't you ask him? For old time sake? For the little cars and sidewalks we knew...your little hand a snow cut out, a pressed leaf inside my palm, my fingers trying hard not to melt or crush you....Come out, come out wherever you are. Come out Patrick. Remember, you can't swim. Remember? I have asked every fish, every damn guppy about you. No one's seen you. I told God to sweep his big sweaty cupped paw into the that cool bay and swat you onto the shore. But he was too busy combing Jesus' hair. Showing off his son. In my face. Jesus laughed you know. He showed me my eye ball. I can't believe you gave it to him. I suppose I deserved that. I will be weed soon, maybe a bump to sit on. Then the game is up. And you my algae, mucked up boy, you will grab my fiddle and lead the parade of my mistakes past the bump that was me. And all will be right again. This mirror...this mirror, it shows me a freak. It has my eyes and the boy I once loved. But what is that all around it? I don't know the scales or the mouth. It's a sad mouth – poor creature. It too must have lost something. Here. I'll give it a little pat. And a quarter. There...there...it'll be all right.