la casa delle rane
Let me drown in the riverbeds of my homeland
and not feed on these evergreen
reeds so loosely swaying in the outer rims
of my dark iris'

this is not a forlorn
declaration, just a semi-circular
truth; the kind of gratitude
that comes from staring at
a grey sky too long, or
being a full moon female,
or simply standing alone
before a thatch of weeds,
barefooted, and scowling

she is thinking that to be forgetful
would be a wonder well conceived
in too many bright flashing lights,
in too many cardboard signs
littering the ghettos of her wasteland,

in too much green;
too, too heavy green,

the Mecca's of our philanthropy
are all threadbare, mere fringe
to crust my lips with well-meaning
fashion tips,

a high heel,
dress hiked up,
sidewalk wet with night ash and rain
and gasoline, when all she wants to be
is alone.