that damn mouse somehow ate through the cage

by blake ellington larson

through the bars and into the
grey cashmere tight knit sweater i bought at
some thrift store during christmas


the grass patches and early late afternoons of
smoking joints in backyards and in hammocks
and wooden bowls on warm soup at a friends house where
psychedelic herbology and meditation met me somewhere
halfway between bad poetry and dress shirts or
pipi longstockings hair do’s and sarongs


kaz and i in his rusted black camaro
and early morning sunday drives to nowhere
and back through fuck you neighborhoods
and listenin’ to u2 and tom petty on the way to
buy a rose and a cup of coffee before we’d stroll the beaches in
black hightop converse talking about his vampire script or
how we’d find some kind of liquor to sip overnight
calling everyone we knew just to give some kind of
anthem to our three chord dreamless-nessing’s
some kind of full moon song to sing where
no one would listen but kaz or me on a porch alone
together in those bored rituals and distractions of parents
or talking about getting away and really not getting anywhere
and then dinner with family and movies and heating taquitos
and staying up later and later and later
and telling jokes in bed for hours
and the fart jokes never got old
and our lives built chapters round words
or girlfriends or romances that went plop on the grass in late summers when
a lawn-chair and a pack of camels on a noonday sun said
almost everything about who we weren’t and where we weren’t
and knowing it all along