French Fries

Finger food for two
Spilled onto red plastic
I’m not hungry, but I’ll ingest them
They’re unbearably edible

Without ketchup they’re nothing
No fodder could matter less
Just something to chew
Between bites of burger

No taste but a sting
The sea salt on your dry lips
that you won’t stop picking
no matter how much I beg

Teleport

Stumps sticking out of the Hudson
Acrylic drawn, deep grey and blue
Peering through a kaleidoscope
At the waves which writhe in the lights of Jersey

Red brick walls bleed onto trees
Bushy carrot heads protruding from squares of dirt
Gently sighing onto me
Lounges full, finally thankful

Walking through the village as luxury’s jester
The light across a slab of sidewalk
Transforms it beneath my very feet
Into an orange popsicle

Pure satisfaction
Everything from the lovely dollar
Which mom gave me to buy it
To the frozen surface which breaks apart in my mouth
Melts away my skin and bone
Leaving nothing but a happy stick
Laughing at the joke carved onto it

The kid I’ve watched the 1989 Batman film with four times
this year

My pallid friend approaches
With pockets full of push pins
Dark circles drawn beneath his eyes
Only he knows where my home is

Walking with a grotesque grace
Tippy toe ponies and outer space
Splendid spasm of a laugh
Put a smile on his face

I am hitting him with foam
Rubber balls are thrown as stones
Then we find ourselves breathing
In sync with the paisley rug

Alive but with fading flesh
Graphite by his hand was blessed
If home is where the heart is then
Home met god in Missouri