Jasmine Flowers

From the Faucet

Oh yeah, I know about that dried-up creek down the road. The water ran right on off to our house. I keep it clean in the tub — put a bit of bleach in your bath if you want. All that salt keeps it real soft. I ladle it up in a bowl outside for the cat. She came back here the other day with a brand new tail from her cougar friend. Now she actin’ all big and purrin’ at night. Must be calling out for some Tom. Maybe he’ll come, and they can stay under the porch. Need to run these mice into the woods. We can’t sleep with all those eyes under us! Only the Devil would be watching like that.

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The Astronauts Are Out of Milk

I can’t stand you, so I have to be honest. It’s time to replace that star you’ve been wishing on. It’s done you no good. It’ll do you no good. You’re praying to something that might already be gone — a glimpse of hot gas that once was. You should wish on a rock, even if it might crumble. Haven’t you been held? Haven’t you been thrown into the water? You’re not too good to trip someone up. Forget the bodies of stars with no mouths to drink. Build a foundation in the pit of your gut. I might just be there waiting for you. We could climb your throat to gaze at all the teeth — those yellow-white bricks lined with spit. It’s a perfectly good view for you. But then again, that’s just how I feel. I’m no scientist or whatever.