Eagan

I drove back to
assemble
)like seeing through snow)
assembly lines
that made my
home
upon home

splitting levels
of memory and future

I torture
the hour glass.

The tower's mass
(god alas.)
which only casts
suburb's shadows

was made of water
as unreal as
cul-de-sacs
ethereal.

Recycled by design
I was re-signed
to dwell
on heaven
as well as
home.
---------

back then up
on the awning
the door would open (yawning
bored of monochrome) for
smiles faker than the floor

*linoleum

is where I shaped my core
of sheen
is where I opened presents
plastic

was birthed by petroleum
machines

was sewn by metal hands
spastic

like my mom's
as she
changed
the channel
with her manicure.

and the chemicals, I fear,
hid like cellophane ghosts

as I slept like a computer in
my bed
powered down
still
warm as toast
not breathing at all
like walls
and
water tower

whose
water would fall
to our sink

whose
shadow, I think, I saw
out windows. pained

I was
by its whiteness
as though my eyes were
rubbed
with chlorine,
and they were
in the
tub
too clean

-------

So I am standing here next
to my plastic car
admiring the angles
of childhood

the compounds
of shots taken
the composition
of art
the chemical makeup

of my
heart
here-made by
pre-made homes
for making children.

they return like radiation
and in contemplation
hide
in dark rooms
with
film

also dipped
in formal de hyde