(work in progress)

as many, many times bored in the bank in line
wait­ing for a sucker be­hind my mom's purse and wooden san­dals
maybe a root beer dum-dum with a joke on the wrap­per right be­hind my
ten year old head the portable hole opened up to the shelf of Every­thing just like
bugs bunny could lay it out and dive on in to pop out from a tree I'd reach
into a magic bag & shelf pull out maybe vol­ume 4 Cal-Cot gold stamped of the
ju­nior brit­tan­ica read about cal­i­for­nia cau­li­flower chem­istry com­post cop­per min­ing to mar­vel
at the sky! its depth! so much up there that we are in, trav­el­ing through! reach in
to that portable hole and bag of hold­ing into time to the minds of dead friends over the bar­ri­ers
of the river of death or a Wall round the world their hands moved with ink
or clay in THE world the real world right there, right over, right be­hind my head
and maybe every­one's head, a back­wards cam­era in tight focus so every mo­ment
could have every thought and book! Every song! Then I'd get that sucker, un­wrap it
read the joke & chew till the lay­ered white stick un­rolled its paper lay­ers to my teeth