lunch on tuesday

when
your hat
ceases to hang
and begins to lurk,
it urgently needs dusting off
and putting on, lest next
time you wear it,
it decides to
eat your
head

it’s
a bit
too hot for
my brain to work
or my eyes
to stay
open

so
easy to
walk by and
not notice you,
little concrete
flower.

go
on and
play it like
there is
no
other
say so
than the sound
of your
trombone

how
easy it
is to fall
in love when not
blinded by facts
about intended
purpose

when
a thing
catches your eye,
it entices me
like moth-beguiling
starlight

they
don’t need
to say anything.

i’m
trying to
get to you

In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,
A boy called Edmund eats Turkish Delight.
I remember reading it around age
ten. I couldn’t imagine what
Turkish Delight might be,
so I envisioned
fried chicken
instead.

stitches
rhyming slang
forgotten camera batteries
standard practice, mumble, mumble
strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and, uh,
some confusion about peaches and nectarines.