Yellow Umbrellas

It’s lucky in the mornings when

rising still wasted that the organs

have no nerves, spleen against stomach

like a drunk with his head on the curb.

Under yellow umbrellas in summer when

you fell in love with loving, do you

remember that fat man who lost his

wallet? Well, I stole it, and the

keycard to his Mercedes… I crashed it

out on the point, was dreaming in its

plenitude, soaring over the edge, bits

of fence and benz killing some sun

bathers braving the sharks to save us

from the wreck, courageous souls,

cutting their feet on the coral.

And then, helpless under those yellow

umbrellas the lifeguards bathed our

wounds in vinegar, sirens creeping

closer up the beach, the fat man

dancing screaming about insurance

and jail terms and kids these days.

Perceptual Reality Diagnosis

Truth, this pellucid emblem atrophied

the jade dragon in the cleavage of the

Empress, each sigh a blue fog stealing

across the slopes.

No-one has watered the flowers for weeks,

the birds have abandoned the imperial pond,

the Emperors Darling dropped her parasol

in the path. Months of colored brochures

on the threshold, curtains faded in the

windows. The map takes precedence,

the territory disregarded, the saddles

give the horses sores. All the cab drivers

refuse your fare.