From Bomb

All night the window stayed open,

but no squirrels came in. Who could

 

blame them, considering the lady

had eloped or was on strike again.

 

Throwing clothing out the window

was fun. No less so than watching

 

the birds extinguish themselves

in the swimming pool. I would have

 

eaten the blueberries even if

there was no law against doing so.

 

I have negated more than

the past these horizontal days.

 

I’ve jumped from the bridge into the lake

and I wasn’t even a little bit on fire.  

                        *

 

Beneath the sky I crawled with just

enough clearance to avoid scattering

 

dark matter everywhere. It’s not so easy

to mail blueberries to the girl

 

who doesn’t wear underwear

that I’d like to mail blueberries to.

 

I might have been looking for

a meadow to scream at that wouldn’t

 

scream back. I might have been

looking for a squirrel with a working

 

knowledge of tumbler locks.

It’s difficult to tell. There was a reason

 

for the unfastening, a more relevant

flavor of ice cream. My hands went

 

missing and, just as likely as not,

had come to rest beneath her dress.