on melancholy 

a mouth bites down on a corn chip 
& there was a boy sitting on the end like a ledge.
a certain amount of crumbs are expected.
have you survived a number of explosions this morning?
he opens a jar & our comes a ghost thick
as jam. there's grapes whistling to each other
on their vines--they're scared. a nose 
presses into a face until it becomes a needle.
he grows his finger nails out too long.
they start to snag on stray threads. he takes
a scissors & distresses the hems of his skirts.
his fingernails are made of corn chips.
the mouth is crinkling a bag by shaking it
in its teeth. there's something wrong with 
the bananas-- they won't stop coughing. 
the spirits in the closer name themselves 
acetaminophen after the first item they read.
he chants & stirs a pot of chicken & stars--
the stars are real stars & they sizzle & pop
in the broth. broth of melted gold. he is 
doing his best or so he tells himself. the grapes
are doing their best as well but as for
the ghosts, they could always try harder.
lack motivation. the spoons are over achievers.
the boy steals spoons everywhere he goes.
he makes a family of spoons in his pockets 
& they clink together as if they're chattering.
they are good company. the windshield wipers 
simply don't work. they never have. they don't
press down hard enough on the surface
of the car. his skirt is ugly & he knows it.
the boy arranges crumbs like constellations--
a big spoon a little spoon. all the matters 
is spoons & all their carrying. the weight of
salt in the spoon. little stones. eating stones.
sending condolences. sending a wide range 
of tastes from sour to bitter to sugar.
his teeth turn to sugar & the mouth licks
its lips in front of him. he just wants 
something simple like a white sheet cake or 
a petting zoo with only goats. the world is 
so much shivering. he can't believe it.
he can't believe it's all happening. the ice
in his water. the brothers all chewing
on the horizon. a sky full of lips 
each without any lipstick. what's the point
of a blank pucker? the sourness is a kind
of daylight that creeps in between day & dusk.
the lime green sky. the houses becoming
match boxes. he is flammable & proud.
he wipes the crumbs from his mouth. he tells
a story to his family of spoons about 
being sick & looking for a cure. in the story
he never finds it. tries eating all kinds
of plants. the spoons get emotional 
over the story & he tells them 
not to worry that like everything 
it is just a story. the kernels
of his eyes pop. 
night comes out in globs.