Radio Static

My eyes close

once.

Twice.

The light flickers

Behind my eyelids I see

Deep bruise purple

A sticky neon yellow

Melting candy

on the playground asphalt

Is that face smiling?

Frowning?

My mother

Or someone wearing her face

Why is Grant from high school

Trying to kiss me?

With tongue, no less

I haven’t talked to him

in 10 years

I hope I don’t go to hell

Punching Briton

in fifth grade

Was the moment the devil took notes

I need milk and something green

The spinach in my fridge

liquefied, grew a conscience

Now it tracks

my moral failings

Is everybody morally grey

Or just draped in fog

whispering

“I never meant to hurt you?”

Mount Fuji is under my boots

I don’t know the way down

Thank god I brought

the miniature tea set

I got for my fourth birthday

There’s a T-Rex here, too

he seems friendly, but

He keeps licking my parachute

Now it’s soggy

I’ll hitch a ride down

with Harold

The T-Rex

He’s wearing a saddle

Custom made

The lady at the tiki bar,

Is glaring like I tipped her

In Monopoly money

Maybe I did

I juggled a torch

forgot I left the circus

Now a bush is burning

It reminds me of my tryst

With the fire eater

Maybe God will speak to me

Like he spoke to Moses

I don’t have

stone tablets handy

Harold

the T-Rex

spits fire extinguishing foam

Sorry, God

Thou shalt nots will have to wait

That was my mother

behind the tiki bar

It was her game of Monopoly

I paid her with

She accuses Harold

Of kissing Grant

Or swallowing him whole

Mum, he’d at least

spit out the shoes

Mum prefers legumes

She turns the light out,

Says the spinach told her

Briton had it coming

How do people dream

coherently?

All I’m getting is

obscenely colorful

radio static.

Oh, that’s why.

Mum’s at

the radio

again.