the bullets we fire off the ferry into the river,

aiming for the goldfish, are found in the holes of 

the rubber mats. i find my rifle under two plastic ninja swords

and a toy fishing net. peanut shells, shaved ginger root, 

and muddy soybeans.

 

the boat angles away from the pier in the green water.

the dingy teeters below the surface like a shit piece of wood,

when i drop my ass in the dingy and worry about keeping my gun dry,

when i begin to see the orange fish in the worsening swells 

and feel daunted, hopeless, and alive in my dream. the ferry's 

 

wake rises like a cgi and throws us under and we are gone. 

when we are gone, our coffee is drank by new strive-rs. the self-interest

solicits confessions, but i still rake in in its flow, when i'm at a job,

where i can't see you in your sarong. 

my life is boring

i can see someone moving in their apartment

across the highway

they are floating above a star

i need a drink

to feel better

having a nervous breakdown

keep typing things into the url bar and then deleting them

my internet connection failed once

that wasn't as bad as this 

sometimes always connected to my gym

i can go anywhere

can't touch anyone though, damn

want to hug someone

want to hug south america

a car has all our birthdays in it

traveling through kansas

i hope the night goes into my air conditioner

battery fails on this laptop

there's an email out there no one responded to

reader, you can go to the window

and take me out of my poetry