Cheap Art
Summer is peak King—
Stephen, not Charles or Frederik.
I almost died swimming to the floating raft at Gilbert Lake.
The moon is jerking me around.
Stars fall out
of the sky like doorknobs
and in every dream
I’m in an abandoned hotel in the Catskills.
First love, too late—
and now…
what to do; nothing much is exhilarating.
I’m shopping second hand for everything
no one ever wanted.
The sky is as blue as a dead jay in a cigar box.
The sun, a ginger biscuit.
When Rachel tells me
she saw the werewolf again, I say
… that’s just exquisite pain.
Her mother has been reading The Clan of the Cave Bear.
The last time I saw the Earth’s Children
they were selling homemade wine. There was bread and puppets
and young men lighting fireworks
in covered bridges. The art was cheap.
My nose grew
when I told you I love you.
Horror Sleaze Trash 