small town glitches 

the tooth picks at the diner were mint flavored.
i slide a whole one in my mouth after 
dad & i eat more than we should be able to. 
cheese melted across our faces like veils &
butter trembled underneath our skin--
a swarm of rats. out the window of the diner
workers take apart the airplane hanger board by board.
airplanes circle overhead like vulutres.
i touch the sharp tips of the toothpick 
with my tongue & consider how much pressure
it might require to pierce the skin.
there is something wrong with our town
but niether of us say anything. the point
of coming home is to return exactly the same
as you always were & the landscape will do try 
to be the same as well. we eat every meal 
at the diner & it's a kind of wedding rehearsal.
dad crawls under the car & refuses to drive
so i drive us down main street where the street lamps
warp like ribs. we are in the beast of it now.
never grow up in a small town. 
it will swallow you back up & you will both be
mangled. it knows everything
you're ashamed of. the grass blinks like eyelashes.
the sidewalk is afraid of my gender so i stuff it
deep into my pockets. people mistake my dad 
for my uncle & me for my dad for my uncle.
we are all essentially the same person,
at least here. i keep the toothpick under my tongue
but the mint wears off. the tootpick turns 
into a dagger. soon it will be sunset 
& everyone will gather at the park & pretend
we are madly in love with our smallness.
i tell dad i can't go. i want to be alone
with our yard. i want to marvel at the grass
we own. he agrees & out there i lay out until
i am flat as a bedsheet. i crave the diner
i take the toothpick out. it's sharpenned 
in my mouth. i need to eat it so i start chewing.
the wood mashe between my teeth. splinters 
in my gums. the faint taste of mint returns 
all cool & stingy. i gulp down the shards
& feel them descend & scartch their names 
inside me. all i wanted was to watch the planes 
take off one last time. i tell my dad that
uber now has helicopters. one could steal me--
pluck me from the soil & call me son. 
everyone is busy with their own indpendent nostalgias.
i take a walk & all over the town is whimpering
& covering her eyes. i ask her over & over what's wrong
but she won't talk to me. i'm just a blood vessel
inside a great comet. no one hears the sun pop
& its last helium ghost into the scene.
everyone's beds hover about a half inch above the ground.
dad wakes me up early & says we have to 
go back to the diner to eat. i explain 
about eating the toothpick. i tell him
he should try & he tunes in to another radio chanel. 
his eyes full of circling planes.