“So Various” (my poem of last Sunday).

So Various


We walked out to pasture

to feed the pigs, the neighbors’

dog running beside us, shitting

beside us. The clouds were a quilt

of calcite-colored gloom, our field

a carpet of sod turned over by hooves.


We sat as the chipmunks called

to each other, ass down in a sea

of tumbled stones. Selenite stacked

like logs, geode after geode

to the wind, our pockets brimmed

with the weight of colored stones.


Inside the restaurant painted

the colors of wasabi and ginger, we ate

wasabi and ginger. 80s hits screamed

eternity from speaks all around, even

in the bathroom. A plate of shrimp shumai

like pillows for a clique of mice.


We weren’t badly dressed

for the party, but we weren’t

dressed correctly, either. Grown men

in a palette of pastels, ladies drunk

beneath their brims, and the shining

horses racing towards their deaths.


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