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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