The first game of spring
It was the first game of the year.
The go lump ducks vs the hot rugrats.
On 1st base for the hot rugrats is: Tiny judy mad cat
On 2nd is Flash betty furball
At shortstop is lucky slip maybell
On 3rd three leg piggy polecat
Rt field Cassy cool cat
Cfield Tiffy Mudcat
Lt field Vicky short pants Field cat.
Pitching Wild arm Jayne legcat
Catching Junk Cat Kitty
The game is cancel due to Rats on the field  the team is hard to control
A real mess the lump ducks left after the first rat was tore apart.
But that's your line up for tomorrow's game.

I felt your ghost sitting in that chair with me today.
I don't know when I took to sitting in it too
But I mean, it makes sense that I'd like it.
People develop the same tastes as their best friends,
And as their fathers.

When dad left you were their to make it
Not so bad.
And you didn't like dad very much
So you had no reservations
About adopting his chair as yours.

But then you left too
And six years later
The scars both of you left behind
Have only just now healed enough
For the chair to gain me as its occupant.

I reclined it it all the way today
And as the silence engulfed me
You and I cracked up together
And played video games while my dad
Sat there too: snoring,
Unable to stay up with his kids
To watch The Rugrats
Before putting them to bed.

Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?
one glass of Ovaltine- oops,  I had three
can we fix it? yes we can!
a plethora of beanie babies always at hand

no play-doh or silly putty on the couch
remember the smell of York patties when you opened the pouch?
Teletubbies is on, I hear the nu-nu
my beloved game boy and Gremlins; Gizmo's my booboo

come along and see what's new
it's me, you, and Zooboomafu
remember when Emily wished on a dragon scale?
that's what started the Dragon Tales

I'd drop anything to catch the Rugrats show
Tommy, Dil, Angelica, Chuckie was kinda slow
Cinnamon Toast Crunch in my bowl
Soccer Boppers and those little ugly trolls

Jell-O pudding and Dragon Ball Z
I knew the Fresh Prince song when I was only three
I still watch SpongeBob and now I'm in high school
just because you keep it real doesn't make that you're uncool.

Sitting in the quiet pulchritude,
In limerence, I am drenched,
Luculent from head to foot.
Watching people gallivanting -
Some agathist, impavid with life,
In eucatastrophe, they are.
The lollylags and misantrophic,
Dillydallying with humdudgeon.
The rugrats in constant bumfuzzle;
Stroking their rumpots are the drunk,

A man and a woman, and a bingle,
Then a belgard was exchanged.
No noise, just music in my ears;
No argle-bargle of the blatherskite;
No conniption from old hag.
No need to absquatulate,
Just enjoy the quiet festivities.

Tiny hairs on my arms stood on end,
As I felt the wind surround me.
What a beauty this place is,
The hoddy-noddies took for granted.
Melancholy, serenity, strangely nostalgic.
Pictures of the past and the future,
Disembogue, delivered from my head.
All this images ensorcell me, over and over,
With a final intake of breath and a shudder,
I took in the picture, forever encapsulated in my mind.

i held pictures of my youth in my hands as i felt my bedroom carpet making designs on the backs of my thighs.
nostalgia,
something that i live off of,
something i can talk about for centuries.
i could talk about the trips with my grandparents to mexico and europe,
how i loved their rv with corduroy seats.
i could talk about the circus and how my parents took my sisters and i every year,
how i begged for cotton candy and cried as i was reminded every year of how beautiful elephants are.
or i could fast forward and talk about the things that are too small to remember like being on google earth in my elementary school's computer lab.
or the smell of the library and how i adore the feeling of the wooden chairs being pulled from the carpet underneath.
i held pictures of my youth,
all baby hairs
and pigtails.
nostalgia,
how i miss it.

this is the way the world ends
not with a bang
or a whimper

but with kids who grow up taught to aspire to greatness
are expected to be fulfilled by
a house
a spouse
a couple of rugrats
a 9-5 existence
a war we didn't ask to fight
a national debt our great-grandchildren will be paying off
a government that didn't listen the first time
                                                        or second
                                                        or third?

this is the way the world ends
with the American Dream

one pill
two pill
three pill
four
how many pills till i drop to the floor
float like smoke
and kiss the ember goodnight
how many pills till it's all right
xanax and rugrats
high and content
no more stress over what i can't prevent

Carry through the light of the pines,
Where the fog drifts gently,
Where the birds pleasantly sing.
Where the strangers are kind,
Dress strangely,
So different from these car-choked streets,
And nobody knows anybody else's names,
Where the waitresses don't know your usual,
And the coffee tastes like burnt beans.

Where the Friday night football is a family event,
Even if the rugrats aren't in high school yet,
Where the number of trucks outnumber the cars,
And the rust spots adorn the bodies like badges on a decorated soldier,
And the mud is still spattered on the sides.

The thing about running into your house
after it has been on
fire is the amount of cinder and ash.
Something I didn’t know
was after the fire department puts all of the fire out,
the family goes back in.

I was afraid to go in-
-side. I thought the house
would collapse. The idea was to pick out
everything I wanted cleaned and put it on
“the pile.” Photo-albums, Baptism gowns, no-
tes from the war. All covered in ash.

I don’t remember what I picked, but I remember the ash
For some reason I open-
-ed my particle-board nightstand. No
valuables, but books, and a CD. How is
that I remember that it was a Rugrats Computer game lying on
a stack of Goosebumps books, but I can’t pick out

anything but the out-
line of an ash-
-free cd-shape on
books. In,
my whole family, how is
it that no

one else knows,
no one else figured out
that my mother got everyone out of the house
and was so desperate for cash
that she went back in
and turned the iron

on.
No-
-thing was accidental. The en-
-tirety of my childhood smoked out
by sheets of ash.
Coming out of the house

That day I learned some things: When you clean ash out and when
you leave it in, when lies go on and up and build a house of lies to live in.
when to say “I love you” and when to say, “No Mom, I don’t”

This is the sad song
Of men and women
Who create offspring
When they don’t like children.
They set their minds up
To repeatedly bear them
To avoid askance looks
And any open criticism.

So they suffer and complain
About what a heavy burden
It is for them to have to
Put up with their children.
Each day with the rugrats
Nets no child any praise
They see not much beauty
In the offspring they raise.

If a soul deprived mother
Never felt love of her own
She has none to spare,
No patience to condone.
The talk of these parents
Is of not having any peace,
No time of their own then,
No feeling of surcease.

It’s as if a child born
Has but few years to grow
Before needing to be an adult
Who will automatically know.
That they must know to parent
The sick adult needy one
Who doesn’t seem to like them
Or anything much they have done.

This is the sad tune of those
Who made many awful choices
But still have no use for any
Of loving, advising voices.
It’s a song too many sing;
The music heart breaking,
Yet few of those parents know
The sense of trust they are taking.

And, I keep running and hiding from myself.
I tap a few of me on the shoulder then disappear; this is what magic looks like.
The rugrats of me scatter to globe corners I don't care to scan.
A daycare of the same fool.
I'll let the spiders and their webs move the me's closer to me.
That is my advantage; my fault.

Running through the yard
With a jar
Trying to capture the flickering
Incandescent
Floating
***** of light.

Laying in a bed
With my sister
And might-as-well-be-my-sister friend
Trying to be quiet
Silent
Hushed.
Because “Daddy’s home”
In our game of house.

Racing to the ocean
To see who could get the farthest
Before falling.
Jumping waves
That we named
“Bigfoot.”

Bolting around
In my pink boots
With my red 'fro.
Fast
As.
Lightning.

Three stockings on Christmas
One with toys and candy
The second with practical and traditional.
The third
Fruit
Nuts
Chocolate.

Catching caterpillars
Under the jungle gym
Building
Jarred
Kingdoms.

Learning to eat swiftly.
Because with a family this big
You have
To act
Fast.

Wearing a shirt in the sun
To avoid that sunburn
That always turns my Irish skin
Red
As
A lobster.

Building bears
Every November
Broadway
On the
Beach.

Sledding down a hill
Forcing your dad to ride with you
Because it’s steep
And you’re afraid
Of crashing and
Getting
Hurt.

Birthdays at the cabin
Everyone was always invited
Willingly or not.
Cookout
Water fights
Slip and slides.

Sitting in a tree
With my best friend
Surrounded by pink
Fluffy
Petals
Waiting for sisters’ soccer practice to end.

Running over to their house
Uninvited
Always welcomed anyway.
Monopoly
Trivial pursuit (Disney version of course)
Blanket forts
And popcorn.

Jumping into the pile
Of freshly raked colours.
The fall always cushioned.
***
Always
Protected.

Even my friends' parents
Know to command me
To
Reapply
Sunblock.

Hurrying to Mimi’s every weekend
Warmth of love
Stomach always full
To bursting
With hot
Delicious
Food.

Waiting till the last second to turn off the TV
Before leaving the house
Lest you miss the ending
Of a new episode
Of Rugrats
Hey, Arnold
Or Catdog.

Holidays at home
Surrounded by the people
You love
Care for
Nurture
Accept.

Running to mother
Crying when she pours the stinging liquid
On scraped
Palms
Knees
Elbows.

Staring at the sea
Trying desperately to see
The other side.
Feeling full
Content
Complete.

Hoping he finally got the hint
Knowing he did.
Hearing
He chose
Her
Instead.

Running outside
To play in the warm soap-less shower
Bare feet
Wet hair
Wet clothes.
Wishing the gods
Would never stop
Bowling.

Walking to a field
With your best friend
Finding the exact center
So you can sit
And talk
With
Or without
Words.

Searching for hours
Through green, green fields
To find the lost
Sign
Of luck
Of hope
Lost
Amid thousand of imposters.

Struggling to understand
Why she suddenly
Doesn’t want
To talk
Anymore.

Snowball fights
And a whole snow family
Followed by
Hot chocolate
Hot cider
And movies.

Anticipating leaving Nana’s
Because that’s when we each got our ration
Of coated
Branded
Chocolate
That we always took for granted.

Grappling with the notion
Of that solution
Helping
Rather than
Hurting.

Tangled up in feelings
Of abandonment
Hope
Disappointment
Love
Pain
Certainty
Doubt
Loss.
A­cceptance.

Competing for the top spot
In everything I do
With no one
But
Myself.

Basking in the summer’s warmth
Both from the sun and from your friends
Always
Avoiding
Sunburn.

Worrying about everything
From whether or not
I’ll fall off my bike
To what
The future
Holds.

Sitting by the community pool
Arguing
Every day.
With your
Best
Friend
Forever.


Holding on to my stubbornness
For dear life
Because it’s
What’s gotten
Me through.

Laying on a bench
Listening to the waves
Staring at the stars
Feeling as small
As a human
In a universe.

This is where I came from
Now I wonder
Where am I going?

processing power, no delays, high octane fury, filtered through a glorious glass hole, gaze and wonder with me, I'm somewhere that seems to be..further away, it was all allowed to happen, I took control of it, or let it go?  Honestly that thought perplexes me, I don't know, a whirl wind, I'm on a spaceship, reading to roosters, letting them give their crow,, allowing them to breath in deeply and cough when needed, its connecting on a stream, and the stream is nice and easy, It understands what it has control over and what it doesn't, gives In sometimes, but it lets the mind be deceiving for a second, then flows back in

Imagine the miccrochorsims, exploring their own roots deeply chaotic, deeply beyond, anything, I, don’t understand…..
Come with me on my digging adventure

Care to have a think?  I thinking not, thoughts through fixations

flick a cigarette and lick a split, you savaging *****, sensitivity of a ****

Come wardrobed with me in Narnia, waking with fixed hats, Wonderland, Haunted by petty notes, humorous haunting, actually amusing 
slaving over the machines, slaving over the rides,

I ensure you, I know how to have a good time

Raging with rambunctious rugrats, pleasant and fun, consuming hours, forgotten hours, fantasies are magic, to forget is perfect

love of saggatarius?  love of Scorpio?  Jupider and Mars?   your words that you thought meant something burn up in the wind, after a long bonfire, burn the ones we thought were vain, it all came from the same well, frame  them all,

frame all of them, in my haunted fantasy

love your point?  I love it too, I sign and I go with you, Love your thesis?  I thought it was interesting, lets come up with some counter arguments and I’ll let your string pull me towards you

Love your praxis?  your objective?  your target audience?  let them hear your rapsody, and hopefully they will live in a new way, their new truth that will get them through the day, their belief, that will hold their prayers, and loosen, affirm


Love your richeousness?  have, have it, and lay in the grass and look at the sky, wonder with reason, come up with a solution, emerge and go back to work

frame it all, I will frame it for you, then laugh and light my cigar, that’s what I’ll do, in my haunted fantsasy, come with me!  I’ll show you

FRAME IT ALL, FRAME IT ALL, FRAME IT ALL

Care to have a think?  I thinking not, thoughts through fixations

flick a cigarette and lick a split, you savaging *****, sensitivity of a ****

Come wardrobed with me in Narnia, waking with fixed hats, Wonderland, Haunted by petty notes, humorous haunting, actually amusing
slaving over the machines, slaving over the rides,

I ensure you, I know how to have a good time

Raging with rambunctious rugrats, pleasant and fun, consuming hours, forgotten hours, fantasies are magic, to forget is perfect

love of saggatarius?  love of Scorpio?  Jupider and Mars?   your words that you thought meant something burn up in the wind, after a long bonfire, burn the ones we thought were vain, it all came from the same well, frame  them all,

frame all of them, in my haunted fantasy

I woke up with the sun
And bedtime was at 8
My moms song was original
And dad just kind of faked it (But he tried!)
They were what Id hear before I went to sleep.
Sometimes Id play in the rain
and run in my boots
in Power ranger pajamas
Caught in a living dream
Playtime, the name of the game.
My sister was a friend,
She chewed off the nose of my teddy bear,
But she found our second cat.
And in time, we'd talk about our favorite Pokemon.
The first cat, we'd avoid
Under the living room sofa.
There were games,
Fireflies,
Beanie babies,
And some serious fights.
Those were my 90's.
I didnt start a grunge phase until I was 15

I didnt know about Lewinsky
I just wanted my next tape
of Rugrats.
When OJ was happening,
I was discovering anime.
And when there was the tragedy at Columbine
It was just my seventh birthday.
Innocence is seen
As the arc of the sun
A bright time
A single perfect day
Where you're never sure when it will be noon
And you never fear the dusk
When its done.
The opposite of Adam's First Day.
Maybe innocence was a pair of blinders
That protected us
Unconscious
To the real shadows outside
Even when our piggy bank mutated in the dark
And there was that nightmare about Barney with a tomahawk.
Strange as it seems,
Im grateful for them,
And I hope to God, you had a pair too.