Hello Emerson

Flamenco

unjust temporality stops me when i try to breathe the scenery
with a sugary sincerity I'm back to my to do list after this stop and frisk
but by the time the light is off the sun is bryter later than it was just then
and that wistful brown-eyed daughter just behind her failing father
disappears from me
nothing to see blame temporality
she says daughters are just potters hoping someone stops
and takes the time to look around
but young male window shoppers always break pots
in her sweet shop and walk away
so she's working from home now taking photos
and uploading her wares online
seeking sublimation and some odd choice incantations in estate sale lines
if i lay myself to sleep
will life catch up to me
i'm waiting outside the house
i'm in my parent's grey van
flamenco on the radio
will i die alive
and the man with white hairless legs from countless years
in pants with pleats and button flies
stands idly by the boys on the court wasting their sweat
between the service lines
oncology herbal teas and hidden knee injuries they keep him up at times
then shove him down the escalator tear his sweaters
turn back and yell see you later
he says family is mutual responsibility shaped by habit
he says money only makes you happy only if you lack it
and pleasantries and kindly deeds are more for me
than any fool that believes me when i say that
so please my daughter don't i ever catch you saying that
maybe he thinks
if i lay myself to sleep
will life catch up to me
i'm waiting outside the house
i'm in my parent's grey van
flamenco on the radio
sweat in the stitching of the steering wheel
fingers in the window fog
will i die alive
and right now underground i'm sure a couple dozen boys discover suicide
they laugh and cry and lie there hoping that they're not
the last ones left alive tonight
with teenage glows and menstrual woes they'll stumble up
and out the pit of adolescent life
wake up the next day still high
hung out to dry like cowhide on the low tide of sunrise
braced to find whatever's left to find what their mothers left behind
if i lay myself to sleep
will life catch up to me
i'm waiting outside the house
i'm in my parent's grey van
flamenco on the radio
sweat in the stitching of the steering wheel
fingers in the window fog
seats they're all bowing down behind me
spent rubber in the fast food cup
will i die alive

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