Suburban House Love

We could be in a kitchen,
someday.
She and I.
A kitchen in a suburban home
in Wisconsin,
someday.
A Saturday afternoon,
for our little boy’s birthday party.
Wood grain cabinetry
and splatter sprayed dry wall.
Light blue balloons,
pink and yellow ones too,
taped to the walls, ceilings,
kitchen appliances, and doorways.
We could be there
with the
fluorescent light
merged with
the sunlight from windows
to warm us and turn our feelings
to goodness.
To know what it’s like to have
relaxed muscles and breath.
To feel cold iced tea move
over our tongues.

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Perfection And The Alcoholic’s Diet Of Unborn Children

alcoholic's diet

This is the alcoholic’s diet of unborn children

Yes, that’s right

Their parents aren’t perfect but wanted
to be

Turning into walls
You didn’t say that sentence properly

That’s funny

Be better

Be quiet, you’re giving me a riot

There . . . ghosts!

Their ghosts?

They live everywhere, even in between the minutes
before watching television

Oh no,
I meant the alcoholic’s diet of unborn children

Not me, not my problem

I don’t have them

Oh just go kill yourself

You drinking again?

I don’t respect you