poor me
life overhears everything
the sounds of
your voice on a telephone
talking
about calendars and your
need to let go
rainbows go color blind
rivers get lost
birds become allergic
to the sky
the sun gets laid
off
the ground puts on
a jacket
dandelions mistake pepsi
for coke
crayons lose their way
back to the wax
butterflies de-evolve into walking
sticks of margarine
and where am I in all
of this
I’m the guy standing at the
front of the line
it’s my turn to lose you
tree lines catch pneumonia and develop
an aversion for pixie sticks
I don’t want to let you
go
(from my book Beautiful Graveyards, Farfalla Press)
Multiverse Johnson 