The day that Conner caught me trying to take pictures of the sun,
The previously salt-bleached name that was him
Blushed crimson like a tree in autumn;
And no matter how hard you try,
You can't un-see something like that.

I am permanently mistrustful of railings;
And the day I sprained my ankle
I carried myself off the field.
But cleats refused to fit my feet the same ever again.

Did you know that when scientists 
Place rats into a fake city
And force them into overpopulation,
They begin to steal and murder and assault
And become hauntingly
Human-like?

Perhaps the roots of evil dabble in quantity,
They muse,
While next door their colleagues ponder
The most effective method
Of impregnating Mrs. Jones
With her fourth child.

My father's hands smell like oranges
When he shakes me awake in the morning,
And in spite of everything
He still cringes if I chance to call him
Daddy.

I watched an 80 year old
Porcelain doll
Read her high school sweetheart to tears,
And shuddered with the knowledge
Of what cave bellies look like in the dark .

I can't find finish lines in the daylight,
But that may have more to do with cliff faces
And geysers
Than the way I can't keep my eyes open in the wind.

At least I hope so.