Blister Pack

  1. I never got to say good-bye to the ones who vanished,
  2. only to return wearing gardening masks.
  3. The reception’s better in the night sky, anyway.
  4. At least that’s how it seemed during long-distance drives
  5. while conducting imaginary conversations with my friends.
  6. Then my life got buried by the present,
  7. which might make this an epitaph,
  8. since every day’s an anniversary of something,
  9. though you still can’t squeeze it through a tube.
  10. You spent the afternoon chasing a small patch
  11. of sunlight slowly moving across the floor
  12. after today’s in-house specials became tomorrow’s leftovers.
  13. Some families are ghosts during the holidays.
  14. Lions might gather near the watering hole because they’re lazy,
  15. or they may be interior decorators with a mean streak
  16. and a secret hatred for the drama
  17. that doesn’t free them from their ribs.
  18. I’m having trouble holding down this piece of paper,
  19. so I slip it under my seat at the movies
  20. where the obvious can be the most difficult to see.
  21. It may have been an unraveling, but I was too busy
  22. taking the park ranger qualifying exam to notice,
  23. and I don’t even have a backyard—
  24. just a couple treasured houseplants shaded by a moving van.
  25. Kids are about to get out of school, and it reminds me of cereal,
  26. yet I don’t always know what I remember.