I’m walking catching the light the baby winter light and I hear drums across the street, bird songs come around the edges of my headphones and the well is filled to the top like a cup with water higher than the lip we both have dinner with our moms on sunday and the human centipede reindeer with paper leash deflated speed hump old gasoline smell glendale no one flagstone path desire project to organize all of life’s desires, pink bougainvillea trellis with some brown leaves our rubber tree we cut it’s thick roots I left cucumbers grave big skeleton dog with wreath around its neck holiday conflation palm trees colder than winter places tampons swiffer pads junk mail cars dogs walking succulents and rocks and that family all coming home together on Sunday at 4:25 and my dark vision of them all silent horror style blue tv the light getting better even before it goes the streak on a lawn with in this house and solar stuff and ADT and clear bugs and cypress silhouettes forming and cat tarps and umbrella coverings and these things I don’t think about but am confronted with on the sidewalk sticky with a tree berry in a few big squares ADT sign missing one half my right foot numb sliding around my boot snowman flag stepped on pine cone not quite roses the clouds falling yellow onto the horizon high up from this flat block it’s slow and cold and any attempt at order— peanut butter crackers w/ flecks of mold trash with oil paint combustion rates garage like wood burning big drawing of air forces on a drive through a window deflated snowman with puddle of water overstuffed pillows on bench with no where to sit on front lawn of street with houses no people red bows on bushes and air filled santa scaling a house specialized security armed response catch the light like I don’t know it’s schedule red Tesla Corolla parked half on lawn with ladder leaning 2 grown men walk like teens toward the high horizon golden spiral incorporating the gray blue from daylight remaining red curb little bridge fence buoy sound tree and tree painted white to camo I turn and see the hill behind me in rose gold it’s dusted pink light I didn’t know— who is zero now? who do I need to write to what is need what is life the dead strong grass thru concrete the la river the pink mountain no one sees me caution tape glendale maintenance wild flags spray paint orange matching a half moon chinchilla keychain from rear view and my reflection bent pole for vans no vacancy but sweatshirt draped do I look at it gas station will they have tampons with applicators big 24 hour sign I asked for tampons and the guy didn’t know what they wereI wanna wear bigger hoops again the mountains starting to layer up in 2 dimensions for dusk losing their saturations and warmth becoming a cool, even lavender the dog walking rhythm integrity bungalows no vacancy a gray cloud like curl of smoke Diana manor for lease wet tar with planks of wood Subaru with hella LA is there anyway to turn peoples heads woman of couple smiles with crooked teeth screened in porch red orange bark big branch cut in half like sweet potato for rent in dirt pile United oil golden farms basketball warm lamp parking permit vacuum sun shield in half bug swarm dog shit and gibberish messaging cotton candy sky now totally pink and blue infiltrating
