Kyle (no fairies)

Hey there Mr. Aprilshowers-southwind-a-commin'
down in the alleyway with his jerky and his luke-warm
can of diet Dr. Pepper,

hey there
raindrop, how's the sky been lately?

Haven't seen him much
with these doppelgangers
dangling from earrings
lately, though the way that
men and women puddle themselves
separately on the sidewalks
these days has been noticeable,

like how he said he was nervous,
in between pouts, and kitten-naps
in doorways, in between the macadam,
the madmen

and the madams of Pike St.
antique malls, with regurgitated
jelly doughnut grease stuck against
their crooked pearly teeth -

like telling yourself that you should
get healthier, rather than concentrating
all of your energy on merely just
melting away, like the seasons
erupting, inhaling the freshest of
night air, months before a good
breeze kicks in, or the gales
grinding up from the bay.

I said hey there stranger,
standing straight-backed holding
a bent spoon, in a doorway
mouthing a set of words that
got lost in an already jumbled scene.