Deux grand’mere son le bus
We got off by the drawbridge
The kid is somewhere along the way in a tan blazer older than he is
The rest of our legs dangle over the edge
Hippos do their tip-toe thing under there
Eliana brought up the hippos as a sort of metaphor for my new hat
Salomé’s ex-boyfriend is a pastry chef
He started yesterday and has already got fondant theory mastered
Will you open this bottle? I ask Salomé on one knee
It cracks on the stone riverbank and pinks the bread and cheese
Still the base lands upright, leaving two glasses worth
We drink from the moving lip, cutting ours silly
Her top one is flat and drips warm now with the mess
Eliana leaps onto a boat looking for her Ethan
Salomé tells me about the time she brought strawberries into bed
How this is nothing like this, how we shouldn’t trust the poets
Charles Barkley
Charles Barkley is in the water
Breaking up made things
Both better and worse
The bird painting is growing
Frustrating seems a questionable image
For a puzzle
Are there puzzles with no images on them?
Correct edges together and it’ll be air conditioning season soon
I’ve never written a poem in the warm before
Rain isn’t worth its salt, didn’t do anything for my warts
Leave it all behind and just start masturbating for a living
Maybe that’s why I’m only allowed pretend cats
The best states don’t like Charles Barkley
I really really like Charles Barkley
Bowleggedness has brought me much joy
How nightmarish things are in Memphis
One time Charles Barkley needed to be in Paris right away
London was in a hailstorm, no planes could fly,
So he leapt olympic into the ground
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Arel Wiederholt Kassar writes disproportionately about poultry. He’s from San Francisco.
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