Short Ode To Smoothie King

I pause at your door, briefly
Before swinging in to the sweet
And thickly scented air, banana
Mingled with muscle milk,
Vanilla protein, papaya, and whey, a
Veritable jackpot of fruit syrups and
Processed powders at my nostrils,
Enveloping me, like the wafting golden oldie
And the lavender lime green of your walls
Stocked, extolling the wonders of
The goji berry, prostate tea, and colon cleansers.


vanity fair the movie...closer to real life than most movies i've seen...didn't super like it...like who said reality tv was the best? neither formulaic happy nor sad lives displayed-- formulaic sad movies have clear boundaries bc the viewer knows what to feel and what should be felt, the tragedy is poignant, conclusive, full circle...but yeah vanity fair diluted Happily Ever After with inconclusiveness, disconnection and...randomness...


inspired by e e cummings

minty teeth and the rush of a comb brushed through and back pack swung back for a swing round clatter down out door slam. stride down rain slicked slap flat puddle pooled road, cars packed cold close with pollen crusts dripping down now. air shines silver like a sheet dime, bird songs break sharp, spin loud, fly by. check clock, bit close, look back, see bus, run thump and jumble quick for bus rolling rumble heavy lumbering up. doors wheeze wide, climb through into thrumming warm inside. on time!


earliest memory 1

Grey and green. I cling to Mom's forest green pleather jacket and attempt to bury my face against its cold surface. She holds me, laughing and chatting in a flow of Dutch sentences that I feel rumbling through her chest. The air is metallic and sharp. It whistles through the crevices and pinches my eyes, my cheeks, my nose. Voices--Oma, Opa, Dad. I look up. A gust smacks against my face and sucks my breath away so that I gasp, fish-faced. There is laughter, cooing, teeth.