to the bush! or mimicry, parody, and dictionary dreams

 

you can have a lonely dance party with your mirror

mirror on the wall, with enrique in spanish & a professor

dressed in feathers.

but i'll blink three

times & the lovely professor's tongue outta your

ear - gone (to the bush? no hell no

 

more likely to england & a husband. there will

be loose sleeves & literary critics

turning down their collars).

 

                                  strategic appropriation is not in the dictionary.

you are not a dictionary, but i consult you

anyways. much more subversive than mimicry

or parody.       

                       i try to guess whether there might be red wine running

in the distinctions.         i try to keep the white wine from spilling

into ambiguities.

 

become a nap on a tile street. become sleep

and dream empty apartment

carpet dreams.

 

picture a lonely saint selling cocaine carols

from the snow-fort on his front lawn.

ice is free.

forts are free.

crack is not free.

 

trees are ten cents a piece & the bush is not for me.

& also the bush is not for me.

 

i dance like a perfect ass on cut-blocks

lonely. where the fields are sown pine

& the thresher is coming, but i can't hear

over the tongues in my ear or the slow-dance singers.

 

you'll have a dance party on the icy road home, when i imagine

you're alone. sunsets are also free & precipitation

as good as confetti. i will sing

a vanilla flavored song in a silent key.

 

when we wake up the weather will be subversive as always.