The Party

The sky being slowly pulled forward

by a small child on a bicycle.

The air like the inside of a snow globe

after the water has evaporated.

The world contiguous with us.

These are capitalized times.

An ice cream truck

still playing its song in the rain:

the way love gets smaller

every time you feel it.

This moment having no reason not to exist,

so it does.

Poem with a Hole in the Middle

A Starbucks cup practiced its vowels

over the sidewalk.

The migration of things

and the mitigation of things.

One man threw

a lit cigarette on the sidewalk

and one following pinched it up

for one last inhale.

A child’s bike, spokes covered with tinfoil

to look like chrome rims.

I couldn’t tell which part was the revolution,

so I pretended to be more people.

I decided to stop seeing my savior.

I wrote a poem titled “Poem with a Hole in the Middle,”

and posted this on my list

of things that happened while I was alive.