Sunday, April 10, 2011

National Poetry Month, Day 10

The skydiver pulled out his disposable camera
(you remember those)
and was just about to snap a shot when a bird collided into him
and the 24-shot little instamatic camera fell from the heavens
(he would have forgotten to develop the pics anyway).

*

One time my then-girlfriend and I were in Prescott
arguing with the windows open in my beater Honda
trying to find the freeway when we heard a ringing sound
and she flinched
and either yelled or half-wimpered,
and reached up and pulled
a sliver of metal out of her hair.


*

Do you think that skydiver - like ten years later -
thinks about that camera at all,
or does he spend the time
wondering about
that poor bird's family?

*

Another time we were at Disneyland
sharing a table with some family from Minnesota
(I've tried writing about this before,
but it hasn't worked until now)
and they were having a terrible time,
or at least the dad was. And as he recited to us
his laundry list of this abomination's offenses
(i.e. - the parking, the prices, the lines,
the walking, the heat, the noise, the whatever.
Thank god he didn't bad mouth the churros,
because I would have had to slap him.)
and just as he'd reached a perfect froth

a bird zipped by and shit on his bald, shiny head.

To this day, I've never seen a man look so defeated.

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