I don’t get shrugs. They make no sense to me.

I don’t get shrugs. They make no sense to me.
copyright @aladreth antoinette brown


It was on a beach that
the skies became dark.
Aircraft named
"D-E-L-I cious"
 flew over,

Suddenly
there was an alien invasion,
hovering crafts
spinning,
turning the skies
to green and black.

There was a major
attractive woman
in a shrug and flower dress.
She had a cigarette hanging out
of her mouth,
a designer bag on her shoulder,
snappy sandals on her feet.

It started to rain.
I saw it all before
(shhhh) it happened,
psychotherapists
would ask me later
"Who did you want to kill?"

There was a gas station there
and I was backed in to a janitor closet,
ass against
a skeleton and a mop,
my glasses were stained
with my tears
for whenever I would bow my head,
"God please make the alien ships stop,"
the salty liquid mess hit the lens.

This reminded me of when I taught
Sunday School
and I'd tell the children
to bow their heads to pray before snack
and Sarah in her pink church dress
would say to me
"I don't know how to bow my head."

It's funny the things you think of
when you are all out of love,
out of searches, out of options,
but damn him to hell, you have a poetry book,
and a sexy post card saying he's still in love.

And this, my dear lovelies,
this, is why I am still not over him,
his passive aggressive
head games
get me every time.

I could drink pure carrot juice,
70 calories
a serving
and not lose anything.

All my gambling got me
no where,
that road rode out, baby.

Finally at the day of "no hope"
I took down my song
about fire hydrants,
hairy chests,
and wheels.

The number is up now
in blue mesh stockings
and bleeding tongue chains
in the court room,

I tell you
the beach,
castle with the beach,
sunset in the chair on the beach,
eruptions on the beach,
The beach is empty now,
orange broken over nipple, gone
bawdy, broken lips to thorns,
so very gone,
the woman's advocate-boy feminist,
long gone
My hands are stained with
gold vein paint,
clay under my fancy claws.

I made a beautiful bracelet
with the clay - half African,
half Australian.

All the inmates
commented how
capital G-R-E-A-T it was
and I felt pride today
because prisoners,
my love,
prisoners know.






previously published May 13, 2008