one.
a sudden dictator
proclaims himself General
in an indecisive catacombing moment
of the soldiering democracy
in the tunnels above sunrise
victory is declared
when manifest destiny brings
squirt, drumsticks, and big league chew
to this weekend's invading forces

five.
it's rusty! up for the golden hello,
a friendship reversed in furry miscalculation
going down to keep a lip on,
puzzled by the taste and
sight of sanguine grass

the snaking concrete
pulls panting sweat
to pvc and paper
even after abdication
by a co-founder,
his entrepreneur freckles
lead to eyes lead to record
lemonade profits
tink, tink

the Blue Chair. hall of fame
for miscreants, idiots, spoiled brats,
and Bad Kids. he can't tie a shoe.
over, under, cross,
around, under,
through the loop,
across and over.
still wrong.
he can't tie a shoe,
but can cry in a Blue Chair

he's a knight, at the round table,
receiving a bright yellow workbook
each stumblecorner page carefully mastered
that's right. advanced reading.
wind swells the chest
and his head balloons
advanced

swing, swing, swing
a chin keeping time
to the pulse of flying boys.
piloting a wheeled trapeze in a dusty arc,
he's spaceshuttled to new elevations
before gapes of envy --- mmmph! the flavor of dirt,
no, hemoglobin mud, dispelling jealousy

six.
action figure birthdays are
the best. he knows to share

at pinecrest hospital, he is a
doctor applying medicinal sand
because Jody is pregnant. phone
calls are made

any board game will do. any
sacrifice can play. he's going
to win and you will lose

why emcee, eh. he's locked
in a deaf bus. tears are
disbelieved. finally! stop.
out. he pees for 9 minutes
full bore, converting counselors

a getaway car. a security fence.
the gate opens, scurried toughskins
no! he's kissfected by a girl

safely securing attention, he will
demonstrate new speeds: GO!
a slip, a rip, gasps.
hesistation, he's alive.
determination slowly walks on
running red legs to the start.
now, WATCH! zooooommm...

two.
left alone
to suffocate
in a 2-ply hefty sack
under a dead streetlamp
in a ghetto gutter
near midnight,
wearing blue peejays
with white jailstripes
while softness
falls through
the torn crotch.
muffled hyperventilations,
trailing eye rain,
and Sister Miracle are real.
she is a rebel commando
who ninjas between the
twilight of criminals
to detwist-tie-ify
the rubbish smuggling ring,
liberate two family members.
she brings Teddy
who brings sleep
thank you

on a familiar night
the neighborhood soundtrack
skips on sirens
as a lunar spotlight
frozen through glass
exposes the shadows of Satan
swaying from insomnia. thump.
resistant sensors are hijacked
by the footsteps just outside the window
he is man of the house and
defender of the homestead.
a heaving breath fogs silver
dollars next to pane
he has a footlong official Dodger
fan day stadium bat hidden
in the grasp beneath pillows.
thump. barely one
hand and a thumb, he's
fucking scared shitless but
ready to kill. without
breathing he listens to the
Devil hop a fence
cant sleep cant sleep cant
sleep cant sleep cant sleep
cant sleep cant sleep
cant sleep cant
sleep cant
sleep

zero.
whispers of my flesh,
these little seans, would
be reincarnated except
each has slapasked where's mommy?
and i have never known