snap to it

the art on the wall
is not you at all
because the arms
on the canvas are too large
in proportion to your

waist and it’s a wonder
such a drawing and
charcoal rendering

would have eyes
on the same side of the
head viewing the world

like it were city scenes
spied while sitting sideways
on a seat on a train

that crawls through many
stops between here and Solana.


lend me your comb
and i’ll staple it to
a canvas and then

draw a line with
a sad blue chalk
a great many lopsided

hearts around its teeth
and the small black strands
dangling unmodified,

and then watch
as i glue your sunglasses
in the center of

the space and then
walk away, making like
i ‘m washing my hands.

“i like the first one better”
you say,
“i see myself
as one with two receded eyes
on the same side of the head

under a large ear,
reaching to the world
with this huge truck driver hands…”


it’s dinner time
and the movie
is in an hour
is all i can say?

we are too old
to lose our watches
after the hour
has been paid,

dinner and a show, madam?
you nod, you reach out a hand

and there i am
on the corner
staring into the

pedestrian walk sign
as it blinks whitely
against the encroaching gloom,

thinking of you again
while returning movies,
buying light bulbs,
crossing streets in dream town.