SymMetrical

When I was growing up In my backyard There was an old plum tree Witness to the making of one house, many homes And the day before my sisters seventh birthday It died And men came to take it out of the ground When it was alive There was a swing attached to the tree That my sister and I would play on And on the days that we did You could see past the gate and over the wall That separated my neighbors From the river Which only ran on the days that it rained On the days it did not It stayed a sunken trench That cut a long line across the city Like the line down the center of your palm

When my cousin had his birthday He wore his age like a badge of honor Perhaps he was telling the truth Perhaps he was afraid And by overcompensating felt that he was saved Caved in cake Craved intake Take out the take out late Later At The Movies showing Roeper like a reaper eating Rodger Ebert's face Paused in place Cards are maxed out Outsourced and passed out Placed last but passed late The little pitter patter of the onomonopea Rain still pouring Like a teacher tries to preach just like a Preacher Peeling plastic off the sidewalk Empty rhymes talk Empty minds mock Brakes are shot I grip the steering 2 and 10 it in a Walmart's empty parking lot

It's cool It's getting colder here Seating arranged Draped by skimpy little swim stuff Kitty deranged The seating arranged Changed Clouds form against the awning Yawning Burning blades of grass Replaced by Drought resistant shades of brass Gust of wind like blowing glass Blowing past The change is making music in my pocket Rock it Type a couple letters, spell a couple words Form a couple sentences that's for the birds Print a couple pages The Cat's out of the bag now Probably the best summer hands down

Pliers prying for attention Rusty little liars Starting fires Scared straight Swam straight down the straight Wrapped up in butchers paper Playing with a busted bottle Of bootleg Tapes All Taped up I'm trying so hard to wake up She is Tightly wound and In her head She is Bound in twine And yet She walks so well along the line But I can't keep my balance.

I'm having trouble getting back Back into the swing of things Should I start with the same set of sounds Sounding out syllables Maybe my sultry symbols Will soon cease to sting like symbols Or Maybe I Should Write As Little As Possible To Make My Words Appear More... Than Just Words What if it doesn't need to mean anything? And all that matters is how the words sound? Like Likelier than Sailing south Banana Brainstorm Bar stool Mouth Monolithic Monotony The Paragon of Chivalry Dial up the cavalry Regardless, I like the practice To be honest I missed this.

Just five minuets Give me just five minuets To breathe Come up for air Inhale Exhale That stale taste On your tongue A reminder of being young Young enough at least Place mats and play dates and Playmate Behind the gate And swinging higher than anyone Wishing you weren't young Girls you knew you loved A thought so lovely; high above Pushed against the wall of see-through plastic Blowing bubbles Scream for daddy Crab-walk along the poolside lined White tiled SlippingSpillingTilting Trial Water gurgle Swallowed up Blackened bruises Smooth Jazz Music Musing away the blind and unforgettable Blue Bird Burbling Stomach Churning Eyes glaze over and over and over and over and before long it's over.