The Elementary School Across From Whataburger

The little girl is talking to the trees
But the trees won’t wake up
To tell her what she needs

How her hair is
Who her friends will be
What side of town her family should
Live

The trees are old
They’ve lived long enough
They think it’s stupid what they’d
Have to explain
So they stay asleep
And the other kids avoid
The little girl talking to the trees
Because she’s different
And won’t walk around in circles
In the parking lot
Like the rest of the kids are told
To do so by their P.E. teachers
Because it’s a part of the curriculum
The planning of making tomorrow’s
Americans
be like this

 

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

Appointment With Directors

Chase the hills in Mexico,

followed the tones of your skin into shadows,

by the morning the sun was there

all eyes were open
and the beaches bartered eternity,

I reached for a tortilla.

The moss and mold hid, then fell apart
underneath
the eyes of the onward looking directors of Universe.

Afternoon cascaded down your legs
dribble dribble
and my head feels so good,
I smell the old plants,

let me eat the oranges in a still room,
god damn, I am an old man.

 

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin