Daydreaming is roller skating backwards to a couples’ song with a red jean banana bag—alone, not thinking—tons of lights on iodine-looking walls. Wallflower girl couples and the County Fair daisies, roses on their cheeks crack when I go by so my banana bag spills: broken roll-on strawberry gloss, bummed bong, red twelve-toothed pocket comb, thong. Cunty cunts! You’re lucky I’ve got a peace sign carved into my ankle.
Daydreaming you’ll all turn down the rollaway cot, you’ll comb the cinder block hovels, the hollow, then the mountain fog—get cut up in blackberry thickets I put a spell on—all night for me:
1) me eating the nuts off a beech
2) me eating the nuts, carpenter ants the falling beech
3) nutshells and lines of eating carpenter ants daydreamed from a hollowed-out beech
4) beech stump, Blue Dream spray paint, redheaded woodpecker, crushed Colt
5) couldn’t I just count crows—fake crows made from coat hangers and panty hose—all day at the fog line until I fall off
Daydreaming I think big things or dreams happen a certain way just once. V. Cleb thinks he’s Noah: snake crates then dog pens then inner tubes daydreamed by his Chevy bed. More, V. Cleb prays to whoever it was rolled away Jesus’ stone. Stoned I sometimes see red light around things and folks. V. Cleb sees ghosts, says they’re mostly normal-acting—one real out-of-it on a wipe-down porch glider.
I can get mean-feeling when I get looked at a little long. Daydreaming is shining deer with a jacklight. Lit, shining whitetail from a truck jacked-up on concrete blocks, on tire rims and 2×4’s. Freezing doe eyes with a jacklight from a chalky bed, chalk of deep woods volcanoes, with a boy or two.
High in a red bra and thong swimming all night in the motel swimming pool inside the padlocked chain link that cuts into my thighs under the unlit, motel swimming pool sign. Swimming pool inside the bad luck chain link like a sky: milky clouds circling my thighs, toy airplane bumping the steps, beach ball sinking.