The Pink Ticket

A playground of many muses.

The Pink Ticket - A playground of many muses.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 325

We watched the two uber-alpha
males parade past the car,
the shine of a street lamp
spotlighting their vanity
muscle flexing. They never saw
us, never heard our laughter
fade as we sat under a starless
night listening to the only Pink
Floyd song I ever liked. The air
still, crystalline as it froze
between our lips, heart-
broken before we ever started.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 324

False clouds drape over us
laying their sadness across acres
golden in the late harvest rain;
a shield from the glisten,
the hint of pretensed color–
a central star’s illusion.
Another day amid time
we don’t own and stripped
urgency in a myriad juxtaposed;
multiverse lovers unravel
grappling at frayed edges
sliding into the darkness.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 319

He doesn’t look like a bum,
but I hear it on the whispers
floating on the late morning air.
The old man sits just before
quarter of noon, his first
beer of the day smooth,
almost gone wondering
what the view’d be like
without the shopping mall
from a place there would be trees.

She hovered over my cart
arms crossed over her heart.
The woman leans back
as she asks me if I use
a hot air popper
for the popcorn kernels
scanning at almost three
dollars. They are not on sale,
she nods and tells me
the salt, it doesn’t stick;
tasting weirdly of corn.

I woke up late today;
had lunch for breakfast
mused silently about the way
in which time defines food
and leaves hunger confused;
longed for the smell of farm–
plants in the ground giving
forth fruit, before dying into
the winter. The grocery market
is set up in aisle, rows–
a jungle of paper and plastic
where there should be gardens.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 316

Disconnect from desire
free the night’s passion;
would anybody want it
if they knew? Heard
the quiet minstrel
as he shifts the knight
three paces, black to white?
Hopeful the king won’t
notice before the game
is over, the pieces
collected… gold, silver
treasures. Every-
thing else a deceptive
guise; this is all
it was ever about.