ssb

sometimes i leave my bedroom blinds
open
and fantasize about teenage boys with burritos
watching me in my nightgown
as i get ready for bed.

i accidently flashed a boy
in the drive-thru at dairy queen
one summer
when i had a boyfriend
who liked being flashed.
i didn’t mean for the boy to see
but he opened the window to give
us our change
at his lucky fourteen year old moment.
i watched him point at me
and tell his friends.

from that moment on
i’ve wanted to turn on boys
with fast food.

Wuncapunathyme

Wuncapunathyme der vas a gurl by the name of Ray "chill" Smurf, who often (more often) wundered if she ver a boy. Herr friends (what few der ver) accented this unfortunate confucius (cept for some, who, being boys themselves, told others she vas a gurl). To this day, we don't no. Way to way (and either way) Chill Smurf wrote on occasion, and shopped on others. Herr ribs (lightly smoked and kuverd in orig. bbq sauce) measured ruffly 34" uhround and kept herr 'gans and such in order. She used to keep binder klips clipped to herr shirt, untill she found no more use for dem, and stopped abruptly one Toozday after noon. Wunc she met a man celling fossils in de street (ov which she bought two in order to tell time better). Another thyme, she met a Thim, of whom Chill circled Linkoln, bedazzled by bedazzling xmas lites. Writing in ariel font got Chill S. nothang but mintie-frosh gigi breadth and 21 yen (a vive!) to spend in Brekzvill (ov vich she has little change but age). Herr reesee kup (which, when hungry, she'd (saul) bellow: "giveme mah reese kup-a!") wuz never to be found again, lost in Richyard V'z pink belly. In Owgust Chill wuz called Quillz incorrectly by a boy wrinkling thyme on a skullbus. By sophomore cards, she drew a drew wunc, but quikly placed him back in the deck and mailed it off to Francz, where the card she drew enjoyed the natural habitat recluse with other nasal fatt-lippd Frank O'Philz (oddly enouff of Scotchish descent). All Dis havin bean salad, I leave you as I found you, only sum thyme later.

fourteen poems about turtles

Its turtlesall the way down.
They wiggle their toes and the
universe flutters.
They eat hotdogs and scratch
their toenails
on other turtles’ shells.
And it’s turtle on turtle
for miles into millennia.
Turtles on stars, on suns,
on planets.
Turtles clogging up black
holes,
turtles starting tomorrow and
starting yesterday
all the way down.


Tell me what you eat,
and I’ll tell you what you are.
I eat flipper muscle
torn and ripped
from delicate appendages
of pacific greens.
Muscle that floats on curried water
next to bits of shell.


Sea turtles eat oatmeal with spoons at the kitchen table
and rattle the calla lily centerpiece
with their finger nails.


Once, a turtle saw planes and satellites
and a statue fall out
of a black hole in the sky
from a parallel universe.
The universe was caked in green mud
and avocadoes.


I heard two sea turtles clacking on linoleum,
and I offered them nail files,
but they kindly declined
and left to sip tea in the garden.


Scientists refer to the first seven years
of a Pacific Green Turtle’s life
as the “lost years.”
From the time the hatchlings enter the water
to the time that the turtles show up
in the main Hawaiian Islands,
it is unknown exactly where the turtles go
and what they’re feeding upon.
What is known, however,
is that they feed omnivorously
on limu, jellyfish, and other
young sea creatures.


Blind turtles
and turtles wearing glasses
still see
the petals falling,
the red fish swimming,
and the shells.


Some turtles
eat pink morning glories
and stain their beaks
golden orange.


Thousands of sea turtle shells
buried in the sand
make thousands of land turtles
dance.


Three sea turtles,
all allergic to coconut and olives,
rubbed lemon-scented sunscreen
on their shells.
And when I asked them,
“why sunscreen?”
one replied,
“because UV rays from the sun cause skin damage”
and I couldn’t argue with its logic.


I saw a land turtle at the zoo,
and a sign on the cage read:
“This land turtle will live to be one hundred years old.”
And there was a clock that counted down the land turtle’s time.
I watched the land turtle die.


Turtles kick up sand
and drop convolvulus bulbs
in the holes.

Two turtles in an algaed tank
lamp-bathe on a rock.
Both keep out
of the water.
Turtle-scented air waifs up
into the kitchen
where the dirty tank sits.


There was a turtle at a funeral,
and it didn’t wear a suit,
or give a eulogy.
It wasn’t a pall bearer
or a priest.
It just crawled on the floor,
unaware of where it was,
or what it was doing,
because it’s a turtle,
and that’s what turtles do.

Sea Turtles II

It’s turtles
all the way down.
They wiggle their toes and the universe flutters.
They eat hotdogs
and their toenails scratch other turtles’ shells.
And it’s turtle on turtle for miles into millennia.
Turtles on stars, on suns, on planets.
Turtles clogging up black holes,
turtles starting tomorrow and starting yesterday
all the way down.

Sea Turtles I

Sea turtles eat oatmeal with spoons at the kitchen table
and rattle the daffodil centerpiece
with their finger nails.