those days... by Tobey Kaplan

It's people like you who make a difference __________a note sent to the 49er's Eddie DeBartolo from a child, and appeared on a milk container those days we want to smoke cigerettes or throw away rather than diligently recycle plastic bags as if language is decomposed texture the textiles of composition a fabric we never pretend to understand a young boy makes a decision on his own about living at that hotel with mom on drugs dad in jail one week he can make the honor roll next he takes a joyride in a car with another fourteen year old and he's dead that cruiser addiction of America where we dig around for roots just the surface vision it seems the aura of indigo tattoos on our arms where some people branded with numbers only it's a deep whisper the cracking of ice receeding break three packets of sugar in to the swirl of black indiscretion a lack of gravity mugs of evaporating coffee clean up the crumbs throw them into a box that  can be used again repetitions of phrases that muddy message we are dying the clatter of internal percusive mechanisms the choral text hoping we can follow the cracking of twigs breaking from the tree in the wind the sky lights skin breathe drunken blessed flowers and shoes stalking the streets in the morning drift

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