we belong in the grass. my twin is in every photo. we made our way out of the alley, rockford files dialogue, fedora, the curtain light is half-awake. climb the rock wall like the rest of them. political water, down-jackets, and it's slushing on us. through the rails, the city-lights flare. the narrative wants it. yes, it will turn the page. stop that trickledown and mug for us. dave had a bag of apples. we were not in fremont. reading glasses, microphone, the camera we bought in san diego broke on tiger mountain.
A Jealous Heart is a Heavy Heart
the party revs & you collapse on the couch cover.
my brother talks about losing his virginity.
my mother lives across that field of horse
& dead grass.
in bellevue, she’s parked in the structure
across from your new place, eyeing
the guest parking space, and sending us texts.
I Had No Intentions
the museum of flight did not implode,
though we watched a crowd scatter.
who’s gonna reset the bone? harborview
collects helicopter traffic & beacon hill
is all lights & sirens. remember this,
remember how the smoke looked like columns
of ashes & glass. everyone is lying about
who they knew & who died. the whole
gathering of hills will go if the wind is right.
your father is not drunk, but he’s got fistfuls
of quarters & a story about your sister’s husband