A Poem I Wrote Without Thinking About a Chicken

A hickey.

I had one once, maybe twice,

mostly stupid I thought,

maybe a girl would think a life without a single hickey

wasn't worth living.

Probably I thought that.

Everyday I get at least one headache

& one stomachache.

Life didn't used to be like this.

We raised ducks

in Hawaii. A baby duck, better yet

three or four of them

could keep your mind off most everything.

Sand, for example, which drifts

through the window & door frames

until you'd think we lived in a sandbox.

About time to buy some bright-colored 

sandcastle molds, not that we ever used

more than our hands. Palms

can shove a lot of sand into a castle wall.

I don't remember playing much 

with my children 

(rhymes with?)

which is when my pen ran out of ink

which is not to say I didn't

only that I don't remember.

I tried to lie down after lunch

but my stomach hurt

from eating what I can't even think about.

Sadly, turkey

is scheduled for Thursday

when I'd hoped to skip it entirely

though I love roast turkey

in moderation

without company or mashed potatoes or pie.

Dumplings, think gnocchi, 

avocado & rice crackers,

dogs that don't dog

but with the boat docked it hardly matters.

Kiwis, persimmons, Savoy cabbage, beet leaves.

Thorn trees. Why can Mike

lie down & be asleep in minutes

while I regret eating at all

ever. Smoking

might be a better idea

if I were R2D2 or a zombie.

Where did the whole zombie thing come from

anyway? Just when I thought

(remember? thinking is dangerous)

there'd be no wind today

it's blowing like stink again

like when it's rotten.

Nothing worse than a rotten . . . Here comes 

a pickup,

more workers I suppose. More sand

in the house. Piss on the toilet seat.

A boat or a tent

sounds good. Half & half.

Eggs – oops! – & cauliflower for breakfast.

Now the new ink cartridge refuses to flow.

Fine. 

That must mean my poem's done.

Rhea americana, Greater Rhea, Ñandú

Penelope obscura, Dusky-legged Guan, Pava de Monte Común