west coast notebook re-entry poem #17
vagrant observations
if only all days
were the ways
in which
the rainbow propagates
into jumbo mouse ears.
wrought iron fences shaped to
hold the childhood in.
what sort of wicked porn
turned this into
a busty lustful waterfall moment
a wife-beater
wet w/ sweat moment
an are you joking me
about the avocados moment.
only in the absurd
does absolute purity
dine on skin flick
the center of the country pretends these margins do not exist
while they’re ogling all over it
while they’re licking the sweat right off
it’s an interesting slice of pie
____________
navy days
ya know,
if you want a sad story,
i’ve got `em.
buckets full of guts—
yeah, tarred with cancer.
not your trick,
fine. pass `round the corner
to the seven guys I fucked for fun
it’s not much when you think of seven
certainly not much to my man’s 100s
but i’m a gurl.
and boy, he loves to tell them stories
`bout those fuckin’ whores he did
back in the navy days
shootin’ bananas out their twats
for fuck’s sake!
yet i was tender once.
youth had it’s way with my head
and a girlfriend too.
well, truth be told
it was mostly just
strawberry fields and electric blankets
but my truth is like mold
in our living room.
so it’s all like
yes, cap’n
i’ll play the shame
for that one—
in trades for this.
____________
you’re probably going to worry about the wrong thing like bears or sodomites. so just don’t worry
taking my chances in bear country
remember which hand
you touched the door
with
remember the handi-wipes
next
time
remember that the fires burning
can be either a light to
follow back
or away
the fog rolls in
we’re walking in a
cloud now
____________
Michele McDannold has organized poetry events and/or performed poetry with a bunch of unabashed free-thinkers across this great United States, most happily by roadtrip but sometimes by plane, train or coincidence. She resides in Trinidad, Colorado and spends most of her time producing and publishing books, when she’s not out killing miles with her magical jeep.
Rusty Truck 