Kept awake by hammerings in other time zones

A girl speaks with her horse
and not much else
under the yawning trunk
of a mini van
under pink skies for tank tops
the long sky forgets me

and fading pals
calling come on dude,
believe in our movies!
from the windows of rusty cars,
off to smoke pot
in Mark Twain's tomb

on another day
I won't be in

and I'm left with
memories containing
just our outfits
cheeseburgers floating
where our mouths once said
"what's up doggy" and
two pairs of blue jeans
kneel near a baby's bottle
in the sand.

Dream with Warren

It was the day Warren shook the treehouse until it fell
and my dad offered us warm beers from the washing machine
and Warren said yes while I declined.

"But I'm glad you're here,"
as I'd been meaning
to call him,

and sometime later we were sprayed full of machine gun bullets
in the jungle-print bathroom
of an Italian restaurant.

Then: Again

I know,
If today should become a small cut
on the bomb-builder's hand
I will stand on this year's frozen pond
tearing off stubs of my Old self
and putting them in my mouth
for getting lost in the details.

"Then again,"said the barber,
as he spun my chair
so I could inspect his work
on the back of my head,
"you really believe the moon is that big
when it's among the buildings."