The Man w/Two Left Hands

Reciting the Lord’s Prayer backwards
in Samoan or
sweating out the final chapter of what turned out to be your life
when nothing simmers on the lid of
the fog & the long paddle out
undone by those wet kisses
& your heart
wired to the ping-pong ball that bounces on the horizon

“borrowed from the sea; by the sea, from the inscrutable tides of God”

not to mention the barefoot parking lot

The skeletons of beer cans the
tears on velvet set alongside your last dollar
                              in the dark (but not dark enough)
              where blossoms unwind like serial killers
& I rob the shadow of a liquor store w/a squirt gun