Tuesday, July 26, 2016


you are an oil slick
tucked in the corner
of a perfect pool dug in-

to the hillside of a Costa
Rican mansion. the noise
of construction rises from below

your vacation, as your mother looks down
from the balcony, counting your beers with love
and a swirl of toucans, buzzards, and monkeys above

disrupts the monstrously blue sky.
triumph and loss commingle
and the ineffable imperfection of life

lands from on high
and keeps you

down no matter how
you try to fight, rise, deny.

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