this wasn't how it was supposed to go.
stitches and broken ribs weren’t in the cards.
especially for a simple poetry reading.
how do I get in these messes?
back on the mainland,
I had lost a court on the beach.
most of which soaked in the unnecessary jacket
that didn’t make me want to cry.
my soul was burning blue.
and I was losing consciousness.
the red city was eating me.
and no one was helping.
luckily I am white and confident.
because I found a chaise lounge.
and languished until my body refilled.
in ten Thursdays.
Next thing I know.
it's the future and I am assaulting.
Dick Van Dyke while looking for my purse.
and trying to call home for my dead mom.