A.M. O’Malley

I always let my polish chip. My teeth

are small in my mouth. I used to get sciatica.

Since 1979, not before, I have looked

for a place to set out my treasures and admire them in peace.

If this were Big Sur in 1952,

I’d meet you down by the surf tonight. We could

get pulled out to sea. The teeth of the ocean sinking in.

Do not say you’ll do it and lie. I’m always looking for that.

I’m still trying to find the right combination of keys for these deadbolts.

I’ve seen people die of weakness, look at them. I wish,

like the Gila Monster, we  could change with our surroundings.

This reminds me of an important fact:

most people die from choking because they leave the room.

It’s funny how people are scared of embarassment.

In the cold my hair goes brittle, I pour oil onto it at night. I’m not one

who saw Jesus in the toast. I remember the smoke

when John Paull II died.

If I could afford it, I’d eat everything out of plastic tubs. I won

the talent show in 1988. A long time ago

someone ran my nine year old uncle down. My grandmother