just bitchin

i'm not answering no matter
how many times you call. that area code
is off limits. the easter bunny left
an egg that's hatched into goodbye
so that's a word you should learn to swallow.

the son is angry and upset
he walks away. he's good at avoidance.
lesson learned on the heels of listen to yr rent.
who avoids
not much but also tends to get in over her head.

why listen to her? if i break the ritual,
it may never begin again. but i still have
something he needs. today was the v in the water
that the beak of a gull makes as it skims
surface hoping to catch the minnows in the sun
opening a wound which quickly closes
together with sunspots and the thorns of frozen waves.

i don't want to sweat his life, i don't. but someone needs to.
he'd like me to care a little less, like before.
some days i'm fine with mortality, want to feed it dinner.
this might be one of those. find the fluttering exit signal
and rummage in what passes for dumpster fine dining

on the outside of this story. the story i was gonna write
till it stopped abruptly with no point. in good months
i know it's pms, in bad months, the hive mind breaks
into jagged leggo buildings with no roofs and doors
slammed not by angry winds but angry leggo children
who refuse to get back into the original cartons
where they're nothing more than concrete metaphors
for idealism, production and modeling one on one.