Nouns bounce off of broken radios.
My mind goes on like a microwave.
I am not Einstein. I am not awake,
I am not feeling-many people think
Of me as a blade of grass. As a piece
Of cheese. Something to be eaten,
And spit out.
The grapes stick out of the vine. (Whine.)
Many people crowd the alleyways,
Sticks and stones break through differences
And crossroads disappoint me.
I never remember what I say after a hard
Day’s work. I never remember everything
When I go to the grocery store.
Tomorrow is another day. I troop up
And down the stairs like a mother
Hen waiting to be fed. Waiting for
My husband angers the gods.