He had to knuckle down

And get it together.

If he were a train,

He’d be off the tracks,

So it was your mom who was

responsible for all that nastiness

in the eighties?

Among the hundred or so

removed from the sunken island,

the camera most loves

a girl, at fourteen still unmarried;

Just a few lines might kill me now,

past sixty, well above the speed limit.

I loved the rush it gave.

Her infinite scroll consisted mostly of selfies:

crow-black hair, ocean-swept fringe.

We were stolen at birth and brought into this world. This world has robbed us.

down at the chophouse

buying a $75 steak

18 Oz. 55 Day Dry Aged Bone-in Ribeye

The horror we call Lampman 

prowls along a gravel road

where last spring’s anemones failed.

Slow hands take you

And you do not give anything away

the man’s ponytail went down to his hips

he dragged a pole above his head

Perhaps it will be like

the night your ex and you

called it quits. Remember,

she was making dinner

Discovery of Richard’s bones below

that Leicester parking lot has made me think

about my own: A tuneless violin

within a battered case?

I took driver’s ed.

from a man later proven

to be a criminal and liar.

I was in that car graveyard

dodging rats,

on the corner of Bathurst

and College St; north, just above

Little Italy. flags fly

I’m feeling better, Patricia, but I’m thirsty for your blood! 

At times there was an army between us

his hairy belly and my hard head

the lake we swam in an ocean to me.

you were only legendary

for spreading your own rumors

bone could pierce me, inside

in some hidden place, I too

have bones, to pierce the clouds

Dad’s best friend had three beautiful daughters,

one of whom I dreamed of.