I'll name you because I don't know what else to do with you

I've found a lobster for you

I've named him Sanchez

I hope he doesn't meet the same fate that the last thing I named Sanchez

How does one kill a bamboo plant? 

I guess I figured it out

But I figure that you can take this lobster on your  long afternoon walks 

Sanchez likes the sun

Likes to see and be seen

No ego just the need for human recognition 

Do your walks still go by the beach?

I would hope so, especially with this recent

Gone are the days of soupy humidity

And now it's brilliant dry sun

And a breeze

Always a slight breeze as nature's suggestion

Sanchez loves the water line

So go close but not so close that we both regret my letting you walk him

Sanchez is a lobster after my own heart, he runs if he's close to the shoreline

He runs if he's near home

So treat him well

He loves tapas

Just make sure he stays on this side of the oven

Tapas overexcites even the best of us

troubleshoot

And slowly he ascends another ladder 
To fix the AstroTurf that needs a good fixing
As teacups shatter and troubleshooting begins
We skip a shoe
Climb a table
Avoid a hole
And hope that the glass doesn't find the souls of our feet
I once stepped on a pier which was coated with shards of glass
I felt them bury themselves into my heels and arches while missing my toes entirely
I kept walking as the lifeguard climbed to the top of his chair to blow his whistle at nobody in general
"this is the Pacific, honey... No one swims here"
I whispered to myself through gritted teeth and muffled sobs
You can't troubleshoot when your committed to a course of action
And my course was straight to the end
I let these multicolored shards make rainbows in my feet
It's the only color I'd seen in days
Other than that bright green of the fake grass that lines my wall and that needs to be stapled before each time I open my window
And even though he is forbidden to enter once I throw back the shades, he still tries to and I am still here
I walk straight now
Or as straight as I can with these new bandages
Wounds may heal
But in a few years I'll need better shoes with better support
Wounds may heal but muscles remember every tear
And I'm reminded
I'm reminded of this decision to walk straight and stop at the end
What for
Just to stop and feel the red under my left soul my right soul
And let it seep into the woodwork
This is the pacific honey
You don't just swim here
But I'm an east coast boy at heart
And I want to wash away the filth of the course I just took
I didn't jump that day on the pier when my feet were their own version of ruby slippers
It has taken me gauze and shame and the judgement of those who stand outside my window watching and waiting to clap
I'm an east coast boy at heart
And I want to wash away the filth of a path I took when I still believed life guards were a true authority figure in my life
When the grass was indeed real and greener
I deal in AstroTurf now
He can tell you
My feet can't tell the difference anymore so I'll go head first
And meet the Pacific the only way I know how 

reset

We lay you down to rest
In a silk shroud of lilac petals
I support your back
Your legs
Your final rest
We say a solemn prayer as others look into the window of our ritual
We prayer and take our merry leave
A bow
A clap
A rejection
And we reset to kill you once more
Good night fifth time
Good night lack of oxygen
Good night

when asked to reverse

You've broken my neck and in rigor mortis I pirouette onto the table

You eat from my exposed belly

"eat my belly" I whine

Your cat tells me "no whining, and especially no wine"

I cry

And I sweat profusely as cats become rabbits and rabbits become maestros at the violin

My tears wet the hard unforgiving marble floors

They begin to give though

Bit by bit

And we are sucked into the darkness

I awake in the grassy bed of a rolling field that sways in that pre thunderstorm wind

You know that summer wind

The wind that reminds you that there's some greater power out there whether you believe in god, Krishna, Muhammad or just the truth that the leaves will always turn and the sky will always fall asleep and awaken

I can't help but run

I run and look for your hand to hold but I don't think you followed me into that darkness

You could be in that dry desert next door where we only know of that one oasis

You could still be in the cultural institute that is as hot as that neighbor Sahara

I run

I think of my father shaking his head as he yells that it isn't safe to run into storms

But I yell to him

To you

To the whipping branches 

That I'll only be safe if I keep running

My feet and my bum heels will outrun the storm 

This summer fury

This summer reminder of a time when cats and rabbits were more than small creatures

But towering beasts of imagination

Run until my feet bleed, and my muscles tear

I don't care I have tiger balm

I'll hold the feather in my hand as a substitute for your hand

If I can't be a maestro of the lines of your palms

I'll be the maestro of the breath of air that licks my face and grooms my ears

I'll play the perfect harmony of the space between this field and the desert oasis in which you're currently relieving yourself

My father never said that summer stops would be glorious

But relief of all kinds is glorious at the moment of impact

I let my feather bow guide me as the storm of childhood nostalgia chases me through this new meadow that I remember as only a whisper

You whispered it into my ear that night we looked for the hole you said was limitless

I remember

I purred back that holes can't be limitless because don't they all end in china

You stayed quiet and crooked your ears to me as I perceived a tiny but unmistakable wiggle in your body

You answered in that small voice you use when all you want is a piece of almond chocolate

"In your pocket

hole in your pocket"

I put my hand in that hole and found my way to this memory of this meadow

A meadow surrounded by spruce

or elm

or some other old sentinel

But I quiver and I shake and I steal the stars as night's darkness surrounds me

A feather never can replace a hand

And the wind will only guide me so far

Until this grass bed becomes open air

And I find myself falling into this over complicated dance one more time

corners

Lamplight doesn't shine so bright when the lamps are tattoos on every arm I see

Sometimes they set the inner arm aglow, casting coy light on the unshaven tufts of hair

Sometimes they shine as beacons on the outer arm where even moths are hypnotized 

Like a moth I am hypnotized by the black lines etched into your skin

Though the posts are rigid you make them sway as if god intended to make immoveable objects fly

To break static

Break rigid

Breaking the ground

To set new pavements in mid air

I see your arms move and you build a street in front of my face

I see the corner on which you made me and broke me

All lit in these somber shades of grey

It was your choice not to add color to your flesh, you thought there was a timelessness to black ink and the many shades it offers

At the time, I just thought you were trying to justify the permanence of a lamppost carved into your arm

But now I see it

Electricity may have replaced fire

Wires may have replaced wick and oil

And pulsing energy may have replaced flickering warmth

But your shades continue to light the way

Light is light

I might not like it

But you have the power of god

You can create light out of mid air

And create a corner

To make or break

observation deck

She tells me I should get an umbrella

I am soaked to the bone

A grandmother would tell me I'd catch myself a cold

But I relish the feeling of my garments hanging like heavy robes and my hair plastered to my face

She tells me I should go buy a towell downstairs and wipe my forehead so it doesn't shine so much in the lamplight

But I stand in the shoes that are now sponges and I walk on water

Biblical or not

I relish the feeling

I tell her she needs to drop her umbrella off the roof

It's one of those that are clear and dome shaped

Whenever I see someone's head shielded from the elements by that clear vinyl protection, I can't help but think of a fetus in a womb

Well, where else would a fetus be

But the thought remains

She won't drop the umbrella off the roof

But she agrees to let it fall to the tiled pavement

Her yellow parka glistens, as she tells me we shouldn't be out here

"We shouldn't be out here, my feet feel like slugs and my hands like glass"

I tell her I have no clue what that means

"I have no clue what that means, my head feels like a lightning rod..."

And she stops me there

She tells me I have a tendency to go to poetry too soon

Too quickly

I look for poetry in everything I tell her

And she calls me hopeless

She tells me that I look for poetry and all I usually find is bloated metaphor

How did we get to this topic

Fetus to bloated metaphor

A combination of sorts as the sky pelts straws at us

I tell her nothing anymore 

One step after one name

Another step after one want

One hand movement on the desire

And two heads meet like discharging lightning rods

Violent electrical attraction surges as lips become conduits

I have a tendency to resort to bloated words in moments

But moments of electricity deserve hot, pulsing, swelling, sparking intention

She tells me we should go

I tell her nothing

We leave and buy those towels so our foreheads don't shine in the the lamplight

The elevator ride down to the street level is cramped with customers and the smooth beats of Kenny G.

Our doors open and we're alone again on this train platform again

I wait to go home

She waits to go back to the hospital

We wait and let the air pulse electric

I have a tendency to go to poetry even in waiting

She lets the air pulse electric

And her body sways to me and I can put my head on her chest

And wait for that train as she tells me the train schedules for the next three weeks

Fine 

I tell her

We'll take the 3:57 next time

Good

She tells me, then you'll be home in time to take in your laundry

She tells me, keep pressing those shirts and keep a crisp collar

I tell her, those are words to live by

We've found words to live by