driving

ever since i was a child
i’ve been having the same dream

i’m driving
(even as a little boy
i dreamed of driving)
over a suspension bridge
the kind where the road curves up
to a summit
and then back down
to rendezvous with the far bank

except

in my dream
when i reach the top of the arch
i can see
there will be no meeting at the shore

the road ends at a drop
i’m going too fast
and i plunge
screaming
into the cold dark water

over the years
my dream has mutated
and sometimes
rather than a bridge
the highway forms a towering parabola
or a roller-coaster loop
which even the most skillful driver
could not hope to negotiate
without falling
screaming
into the depths

each time i have this dream
it is terrible
and as i see the behemoth approach
my heart is filled with fear
yet i am powerless to turn away

last night
i had the dream again

i recognized the road i was traveling on
i knew well what was coming
yet i was powerless to turn away

i saw the colossal arc of skyway
which i knew
no sane driver
would attempt to traverse

i saw the wave-licked surface
of inky waters below

it was sunny in my dream
a beautiful day
other drivers on this road seemed
unperturbed

it’s always like that
in this dream

and i knew i could not stop
and i could not turn
and i had no choice
but to try and fail
and fall
and die

i was cold

but at the feet of the leviathan
i closed my eyes
and pressed the pedal to the floor
and i whispered a prayer
(though i do not ever pray
like that
i do not pray for rescue)

and then
and then…
i don’t know

my brain moved on
to another province of sleep
leaving me suspended
with hands on the wheel
eyes shut tight
gravity pressing me
compressing me
back into the seat

did i make it?
or did i hurtle downward
to the indigo water
as i’ve done in so many
dreams before?

i don’t know
i honestly don’t know

but i know
that i closed my eyes
and i said a prayer
i pushed the gas pedal hard
and i told my fear

honey
you can have the back seat
this time around
and i recommend
that you buckle up

memoir

i’m a leaf on the wind
watch how i soar

held aloft
for stretched-out seconds
lifted up on frail breezes
little zephyrs made capricious
by new, unforeseen power

by now
my flight should have ended
i should have tumbled
to the ground
and yet, still i soar

but in the end
there is only one destination

fate and gravity agree
there is nowhere else to go
but down

did i know this, as i clung
snugly to my branch
for week upon week
watching spring’s greening
explode all around?

did i understand
as summer’s sun warmed me
and by that kind and shining god
i was lovingly given
my photosynthetic daily bread?

what did i know
while i hung there
absorbing jubilant energy
rejoicing in my kinship
with the community of leaves?

united in our mission:
we feed our tree
we are all one
we feed our tree

what did i think
while i suffered there
absorbing the pain
of late summer and autumn
as nutrients waned
and my lush chlorophyll
gradually vanished?

could i see that this
accumulation of wounds
made me beautiful?

that it pulled to the surface
magnificent colors
that were always there
in potential within me
though i never knew?

what did i think would happen
when i let go?

i don’t know the answers
to these questions
i ask myself
as i soar

i’m just a leaf
a leaf on the wind
drifting finally
necessarily
to earth

these dreams

a moment
thirty years delayed

to the chubby, awkward kid
too smart to be cool
for whom this song
was a first kiss
a first love

thirty years
was twice a lifetime

thirty years
was an age unimagined

thirty years
was a thing unfathomable
known only to the ancients

but to the grown-up me
who experienced
at long last

the flawless woodwind notes
of nancy’s lead vocals

the spooky playfulness
of ann’s sweet harmony

the consummate
otherworldly guitarwork
of the band

to that svelter, still awkward man
standing in the cut grass
standing in the warm dark
standing in ecstasy
thirty years was only

a short climb up the stairs
from the vendors of t-shirts
and frosty margaritas
sipped from the necks
of plastic guitars

to arrive at the top of the hill
and our blanket
thrown on the lawn
far above the crowded
auditorium seats

in the company of dear friends
beneath a rippled sunset sky
like the sky above the fey-lands
or the realm of morpheus

and surrounded by thousands
of fellow travelers
each in their own euphoria

augmented by drink
or weed
or nothing but the night

and surrounded by sound
submerged in waves of music
as the band began to play

and surrounded
after all
by these dreams

Blockbuster

In a world
Much like our own
A world that needs
A hero…

Of course there’s a hero
No, not a woman hero
That would be the heroine

Obviously there’s a heroine
The hero needs a love interest
After all

Certainly there is another
Female character
But she is shady
And she tries to seduce
Our hero

As punishment, naturally
She does not
Survive

Sure, that’s not all
The women in the movie
That would be stupid

The hero’s mom is in one scene
She has a funny conversation
With the heroine
About the hero
(What a lovable scoundrel he is!)

Anyway, in a world
That needs a hero…

What does he look like?
He looks like a hero!
He’s tall and square-jawed
Blue-eyed and blond…

Don’t you want to know
What the movie’s about?
Besides the hero, that is
(That part is obvious)

What do you mean you’ll pass?
Seriously?

Well, I guess
You’re going to miss out
On the blockbuster hit
Of the summer

Too bad

Guardians of Littleboyhood (a found poem) [EXPLICIT]

This is a found poem taken from this interview with Ghostbusters (2016) writer Katie Dippold. No manbabies were harmed in the creation of this poem, but nor does the poet endorse their bullshit whining.

~~~

Women ruin everything
It’s patronizing
Gimmicky
And ruined by feminazis

Feminists
Just fucked my childhood

You might as well make
Saving Private Ryan
(With all-female cast)
Or female Rocky/Rambo

Since we all know women
Are equal to men
In every aspect

That’s right
I said it

People hate the nerd
For not seeing
This piece of shit
WHY?

Why?

why?

10 Things Not to Say in a Job Interview

Sorry I’m late; I
got here by unicycle.

I wasn’t sure where
to park it, so
I just left it
in the revolving door.

I might not get it back?
That’s OK.
It’s not mine.

I don’t know if the guy
I took it from
is going to make it.
I hit him pretty hard.

But that’s OK.
I don’t want
to work for him anymore
anyway
I want to work for you.

Well, not “for”, exactly.
I’m pretty sure
I could run this place much
better than you.

You might as well
put down that phone.
It doesn’t work anymore.

Your cell phone
won’t work either.
I’m jamming it
with this device.

Be a pal and
write down your password
right here.
(I can get it
against your will, but
it will hurt.)

Great! Now just exit
by the window
and on the way down
think of all the worries
that you’ve left behind!

Game of Thrones (an anti-ode) [EXPLICIT]

If this is a game
Then why isn’t it any fun?
Aren’t games supposed to be fun?
Maybe that’s just a misconception I had
I mean, sure:
Sometimes, certain people
Seem to be having
One hell of a good time
Like, say
This asshole Ramsay Bolton
(Or is is Snow? Is he still a bastard?
It’s hard to keep track
But in my book he sure as hell
Remains a motherfucking bastard)
Anyway, Ramsay
Sure seems to be enjoying himself
Most of the time
But that just makes the point:
WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER
WITH THIS SHOW?
Every single goddamn episode
Somebody is getting brutally
Murdered or raped
And most likely
It’s somebody that the show
Has invested considerable
(Usually successful)
Effort into getting me to care about
So FUCK YOU Game of Thrones
I’m not going in for your bullshit
Any more
(Oh, SHIT the new episode is up
on HBO NOW
OK, but just ONE more)