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a diner on Coronado island
“mashed potato, you can do the twist!” and she doesn’t twist but she shakes her hips as she punches the register. i smile. my eyes land on a butterfly perched on the back of her neck. she turns and looks at me, smiles back. “ready to order?” “i think so,” i say, “could i get
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(f)art
writing on the can in a luxury hotel. i look at my mustache in the mirror and think i look pretty good with it. people piss and shit and fart all around me. this too is a poem.
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breakfast
i open the egg carton to make eggs and on the underside of the lid it says “our eggs are produced according to one of 21 systems: cage-free plus, outdoor access, pasture-raised, outdoor living, on-campus living, apartment housing, condo living, section 8, beach access, yurt living, van life, homeownership, mansion in the hills, cabin in