I couldn’t blame
the door-to-door salesman,
although I surely would have liked to.

The musky smell of his deodorant
lingered
in the corridor
for days.

I felt like I was in a screenplay
from a 1950s Hollywood film,
except I had forgotten all my lines.

A siren on Main Street
burned a line of sound
in the back of my mind.

The taste of bile rising,
sooner than expected,
in my throat.

clouds shaped like piñatas
populate my waking hours

pressure systems
move in eccentric directions

like maps traced on
my palm.

you can now find me at:
http://eatingmywords.net/unutterable

even though you were sad that day,
you looked like a dream
in your summer dress.

my memory of you flickers
like an 8mm film projection:
soft focus & golden blowouts.

we had run out of money
by the time we crossed the border,
but neither of us ever
thought about stopping.

i felt pure as if i had just
mainlined penicillin & you

took the wheel for a moment
while i stuck my hand out the window

and every single star
just fell from the sky.