is this a kinship?

meg curled up on the sheepskin alongside cole’s bed
stirring at 6:3o a.m. and the light
coming in through the east window
is something sublime
not short enough
i joke with trish

about the reason i didn’t get the wild-print
stretchy swim bottomy short shorts
at the thrift store
something about the chairs in rows
all facing the guards behind the glass
where we have to take our licenses and say
the name of ‘the offender’ as they call it
we’re visiting
something about the fellow visitors sitting in them
and the warmth/welcoming on their faces
when we eye-contact upon
walking in
(as if they are almost made of light)
toting bags of food
(no more than four see-through containers
of certain dimensions that will soon go through
the xray)
is this a kinship?

they treat me real good fran says
(which is not a naive ‘oh – i’m so grateful for what they give me here’
kind of statement, cuz she knows what they give her
(and everyone else here) is shit)

of her cleaning job which is a vast improvement
compared to what she had to say about
the groundskeeping job
the quality of life here
is largely deteremined by
1. who your roommates are
(i notice she says this and not cellmates)
2. your job
she says

don’t want to seem greedy she says
about helping herself to more trish-made guacamole
while teaching us to play back alley bridge
which i’m pretty sure i mostly understand
by the final hand
no way i say we brought it all for you
fran putting her hair forward
(down the front of her shoulders
instead of falling to the back)
to look like she has some (hair)
when we take the photo
with our hands clasped and raised
as if to say we won something or
we’ll never stop fighting
my only two pairs of shorts trish says are leopard/animal print
explaining the procurement of black jeans to cut into plain shorts
and i joke insinuating i don’t understand the problem
with wild animal print in any situation
insinuating is there even anything else
besides animal print?
how i’m tentative/weirded out about going forward on the highway
because of the ominous/unidentifiable
veil hanging in the early evening air
that we move
head-on into

we take turns with
who’s on the beats and who’s on the lyrics –
trish and emory and i singing
as much of the eye of the tiger as we know
which is mostly the chorus
in the dark of the last leg of the drive home

you’ve always liked my nose trish at the steering wheel
quotes joseph as she tells another
joe-refusing-to-go-to-the-hospital story
one of the things i like i say in the back seat
about being in the car with you for long distances
is that’s when your stories come out


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s