Little Green Ears

Depression is found inside bleeding gums.

Hearing another voice on the phone in the next room is still a nightlight left on for me.

Handmade hearts over protruding stomachs flood the internet.

You aren't a mother anymore if your child's birth date, photo ID, and zip code are not on full display.

Just another club to be forever exiled from.

Still haven't forgiven my own for piercing infant ears.

With words of futility and that stranger's stud gun inside that mall in Indiana.

I miss macaroni mache and GI Joe seemingly hanging Ken up from one leg under a kitchen chair.

The shared closet space when Siamese fighter fish go belly up.

I miss my dad for no real good reason at all.

Even if I said "I'm sorry", the chances of it being heard...

A wife behind a picket fence a delirium too thick to pinprick a green-free pair of ears.

Trips to white sand and stop motion animates the clay-like mountains too at the very top...

I never had a real interest in becoming your lesbian adventurer anyway.

Truly a cis male in a room surrounded by sad records and art that immediately decreases in value once put up on a wall.

This is a real "American Weekend" of my own choosing.