pome for Winona Ryder

Hair, there's
a skhanda of. high-school
in the living room, a
squad of geeks parallel
the football team. When
will we apply
for Publisher's Sweepstakes
like you said? I flip my long
sentence over to you
while a paragraph
of girls in shoulder pads
face themselves
in the mirror, a patch
of green square tile
when Veronica walks
over to Jason Dean
in the cafeteria, himself
a solid persona of velcro
and the milk carton
to make it casual
when all they want
is to fuck. What happens
when two people kiss
on a screen, does it
ignore the surround sound
of the weather it occurs in?
"Monday morning, your
history", she said, but
what about the presence
we give to yellow? Or
the red handtowel I see against
a black Whirpool stove
that makes me want
to tell the cops
1988 was all your fault
that the comma was
a knob to what you
keep in the drawer.