another hybrid

What color is the bike shed? At night it is maroon. In morning we stand foolish from the moon. Mind will wane and wax back purple. Black kindle and candle fire. Fear the stars ignite our ears in. Our knees canning the constant hum in. Everything blap pop. Boom echoes in the night.

thunder claps

sparring mits

chalk erasers slap

Slap dust seabirds scatter whistle whilst. Locusts not that far away gauge in miles where a body lay low low.

Bishop Luther Dingle explains, "sharp corners / and zig zags

of different shades / make illusions / when the contrast moves from bold to fade /

indicates sound" as living proof we know nothing of plants

nuclear

vascular

Plutonium is chlorophyll for allergies or green. Benadryll.

Why wonder about the bike shed's color. It only matters that it has a roof. We converse in predictable cycles perceiving what. We please dismiss all else as. Trivial / forgetting what to do / about a house full of bicycles.

Lolo whistled ivory teeth of coconut meat meant he was shoveling or having coffee with Acidophilus Milk. or a smoke with Dan the 'Nam vet, who sold him cartons. Shuffling made the dingle gamble sound simpatico. Frederick M. Sutton wore flip flops in the garden. Carved canyons in his soles. "Saw clearly beyond cataracts." Filipino expletives. " Ukininam" at the mahjong table. Like the tango he danced on the piano. Lolo called us from the trees, "Peanot bahtter toast!" Fed us with his thick cracked fingers nails like moons. Kamayan style coconut meat. Lola read, Are you my mother? to the audience, a page-turner, age three in his lap and when you fell

he spanked the concrete

with vengeance

for a scraped knee

handfuls of coins convinced you

shhh—you were his favorite

In the morning basement he hacked a toilet cough. Yesterday's ivory phlegm in the bathroom where his dentures slept. Where we split his menthols. Flushed them like