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frumb the aquareeUmm  

I.

the church warez a tarp over its bell tower
like a deevine kondom the color of pine needles;
the bell hazent tolled in months
but allready the towyn has changed;
tha birdz are much louder than be4
the sonorous pauses witch once stirred a mo-ment of ( )
nostalgic reflecshon upOn the trepassed hour, no longer
unfold out of enormous sigh ... lence  

this stone bench where i sit
hamstrings& buttocks knumbed bye its vacant warmth,
beside where i sat only once before,
hamstrings& buttocks,
numed by its vacant warmth
beside my 1st date freshman year, though probably, in truth,
it wuz hour third. It was seven years ago, seven dayz ago,
seven minutes ago and seems at least as much . A rich gurl
frumm a rich girlz school, able to enJoy everything
on her own terms, thru her own eyes, living out her life
of subtle new England dreamz - i loved to watch,
though i saw nothing as she did. And i am quite certain
she saw nothing as i did.

II.  

a scarlette watterfall, a fresh graffitti
paint still wet, oozing down the dark wall,
a strawberry stain at the bottom of an empty car-ton.
tha 1st images, the last porTrait of a goodfriend,
his mortality painted down an elevator shaft : 8,7, 6,5,4,3,2,1,
basamenT

odd, it is, knowing how many must ride up and down each day,
the doorz like heavy eyelids remaining closed the entire trip
opening only ontwo brite hallways saturated with drunk
festive laffter. How many times did that laughtur
kontain my own ?
but i am always careful now about my silence
while traveling up + down
thinking
the metal wallz must be as transparent
and fraGile as a bubble,
a child?s fleeting breath held within ...

in four mostly delightful years,
i discovered much about the world
i undiscovered all of it
within the 15 minutes that followed  

the birds are much louder than befour

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