dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: conversation

you placed my fingers in
the spaces between
the spider’s threads

and waited for sunset
or something I said
to warm your eyes

until blinded and bound
we could sit
softly together

Soothe my see-through stomach

Made of tip jar glass

With soft green slips

Of conversation,

Too many clanging


Have circled the bottom

Until they sit in piles,

Staring through the eyes

Of the dead men

Stamped on their

Cold faces.

When you’re old, you’re crazy

She confided.

I stood,

Fellow Walmart customer,

One foot back,

One item in hand.

Speedy checkout,

The one for that last ingredient

Remembered halfway through making dinner,

The get that child some cough medicine,

I can’t take it anymore,

The don’t get in my way I’ve been craving this food

Since last week’s commercial,

The no-nonsense,


Can you even call it shopping


Especially when you’re with your husband

And you can’t do anything right, she continued.

Cute. Old. Couple.

Three words about as relevant

As Speedy. Checkout. Line.

Paying with credit card and check,

She cleared her signature on accident,

Almost dropped her purse,

And looked in my direction

While fumbling for ID.

Sorry sweetie,

Have a nice day.

Sometimes you can’t help

But smile.

Stuff your speech,

Shiny wrapper and all,

Into your own mouth

And chew until your teeth

Gleam with the shreds,

Spread your options

As thin as the ones you’ve

Laid out,

Ball them up and

See if,

Squeezed between your fingers,

They relieve any stress.


Word water balloons

At an art gallery,

You force passions

To mix and wrestle

Their liquid wills.

Your bullets burst,

Stain, and slide down

Glorified fruit,

Landscapes, and skin.

They are

Your tears

As you fend

For yourself.

The advice

You splatter paint

In my direction

Sits like graffiti

On a gravestone,

A testament to

A misplaced


Small talk,

The first test of endurance

For a quickly swelling tongue.

Harder questions then are flung

Until hitting

The back of the throat,

They slide down

To the stomach where

Butterflies should flutter,

But instead a swarm of wasps

Sting each phrase,

You utter

Utter nonsense

Just to keep

Their veiny wings





words like marbles

multiply, fill up his cheeks

until red-faced,

he swallows one

and realizes

his mistake.

You shoot me a look in

Chinese calligraphy,

Insanity in perfect script.

Pupils dilate into


Dark ink strokes,

Flashing like

A samurai’s sword,

My rough

Fortune cookie translation

Just might be


I give you a strong push from behind

When you fly toward my face

On your mood swing.

Kicking feet, tangled hair,

The metal chains squeak

As you soar higher,

But the rubber seat jerks

At the peak, mid-giggle.

Instantly your shrieks

Propel it backwards,

A playground twist of fate

You never outgrew.