Baby Noise

The hitchhikers in cuba line up on stops along the roads
where a trained government official
will direct them
to the nearest available empty seat.
Further north a loud colic pierces nightmares
that seemed like a relief in contrast
to being awake.

I am an unanswered ringing phone

We’ve long outgrown the age where
we name our kids after movie stars,
now were just trying to revive
those dead movie stars

I am spit that stains white clothing

Light taught us all to hate mirrors
they’re so deceptive
and everything is further than it seems;
especially self confidence.

I am the brass keys in a golden bowl beside the fake leather pants left behind by god
only knows who

How can she expect him to pay attention to her
when shes in the same car
talking on the phone
a conversation he’s not supposed to overhear?
Perhaps there is nudity out the window

I am bad bananas and poetry that was forgotten because the pen was missing

Maybe one day I’ll be something.