night walk
layla and her kids
sleep on a bridge
that frowns over the freeway
wrapped in blankets on a yellow slab of foam,
the baby is silent despite the sirens
cars whizz by below us
and i pass layla a smoke
so many people are off to house parties and hookups
shitty horror movies and football games,
her son jace says
he spits off the guardrail
the city put around the bridge
to stop people from jumping
it lands on a windshield
and he laughs and i laugh
and i smoke and he doesn’t
the car lessens to light
and i pretend i don’t hear jace
when he asks if joy
is a currency
we should spend
all at once
since we’re bound to be
robbed of it
one of these nights
hoop behind the church
there’s a blood stain
by the free throw line
i pick up a pebble
and toss it
at the crooked rim
i’ve never told you this
but i used to play around-the-world
every night
and i couldn’t leave the court
until i won
without chancing a single shot
the last time i went to church
i was squared up on the wing
when someone screamed from the dark
past the dumpster
a girl came rushing at me,
blood snaking down her chin
two men emerged behind her
she grabbed at my shirt
and i dropped the ball
the first man pushed her off me
and pulled me into his fist
my ears rang as i hit the street,
eyes melting down my cheek
into my mouth
the second man pounded her head
into the sidewalk curb
over and over
and i lunged to stand
but the first man pulled his gun
those minutes felt like years,
to watch someone in agony
and have to sit in their blood
she and i cried together
in the morning quiet,
waiting for the paramedics
and i held her head in my lap
as if she’d just been born
all my generation wants
I.
is to be happy,
exist and make love
on the couch at noon
we wanna drink in lawn chairs
in the front yard after lunch
hug our parents
and eat dinner
with our kids
at night
none of my friends
will ever own a home
we’ll be lucky
to pay rent by friday,
keep ham and swiss
in the fridge
thru the weekend
i had a dream last night
i was sitting
i wasn’t doing anything else
i was just sitting
in a chair
and it was fuckin
great
let’s make out behind the baseball fields
in the far back of the parking lot
with our lights off
let’s explore the universe
of each other
and wade through the ravine of ourselves
we can break into the high school,
shatter the window
of one of those old classrooms
then board it right back up
II.
there’s a war outside
so don’t turn on the lights
just lay with me on the carpet
under a desk
and we’ll grieve
for the soft spots
of youth
that taste like
old fruit,
for the orange slice
moon
that’s dry of juice