Heading
home after a day at the beach
My
arms and legs stuck inside
the
bento box of a car. My stomach feels encased
inside
a cage of bargain basement samurai armor,
Japanese
potato salad smeared across my lips
for
the seagulls to kiss
Look,
I don’t know why I can’t seem to
ever
be happy, why I keep poking my eye
with
this same stick, the car only seems
to
go in reverse, the hills are alive
with
the sound of train brakes screeching
Memories
of future wrecks, my heart…
ah,
fuck that thing, that chalky green lump
that
wet folded pile of pickled regrets
pungent
and greasy as my face I don’t care how much
you
cry, I won’t lick your tears, won’t lick
the
tree sap trickling down the crumbling
walls
of bark, also fuck that guy back on the beach
squirting
lighter fluid on the briquettes
and
debris piled on the sand.
We
stop in a souvenir stand at the base
of
beautiful Clearcut Mountain,
pick
up some tree stump air fresheners for gifts
Shuriken
stuck in the forehead of a chainsawed Sasquatch
standing
beside the highway on a bed of rice and pine needles
We
squeeze through a tunnel only
to
burst out the other side half digested,
dripping
wet, marinating in our own juices,
sunspots
on my tongue
Blades
of light through the trees I keep trying
to
roll down the window and shove my appendages
out
so they can flap in the breeze can you
smell
the seaside yet? Still? My tentacles
tie
knots around your knees, ah fuck
the
ocean breeze, I’m slathering on
the
sunscreen, painting polka dots
on
my cheeks, organs withered or
plump
and slippery, never roasted just right,
why
don’t you just go ahead and hurl that
tempura
cookbook over the edge
of
the lookout point where the couple slipped
while
taking a selfie, everything’s bugging me and
I
don’t know why, or probably I do and don’t
want
to face it, ah fuck this sky,
this
road, pull over here, wait
in
the fucking car while I take a leak
against
that tree trunk there, this time I’ll be careful
not
to get any on my goddamn sneakers
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