Cell Lysis

Imagine, if you will, a high school science class. Lab day. Exciting. Let’s say someone mistakenly poured bleach on some E Coli. My bad.


You want to laugh

To be swept by broomsticks of fir branches
into the forest where there’s a
castle living in the fucking park
(not to be confused with the second-base park
place for tweenagers to teach themselves
the rules of a baseball metaphor)

You want to take your poems
burn them black in a 2000 degree kiln
so none of it is lost to the atmosphere
And rub the ashes into my skin

You want me to be taller
Because short boys have short what’s?

Want to see a magic trick
oh okay
When asked to think of a number between 1 and ten
You will think of seven

Between 50 and 100 with different digits
your pick will be 68

Between 100 and 1000
it will be 333

Any more and it will be your birthday or first crush’s phone number

There is mustard in the sky but there are
clouds as well
shaped like muffin tops
shielding it
as much as the bat signal

On these nights villains run rampant so we’d best stay
you mention
You want to be seven again

you mention
radiator fog that rises from high rise apartment complexes
And superheroes take it for an emergency

You want music
I ask for a lighter to read a flickering fire tale
of two houses, both alike in dignity
but way too into comedy
to be proper family members.

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