in which Cookie Crumble, California, Awaits the American Dream

so much, i want to tell you. how he broke
the flour he tried to fit the eggs in. married

alone in a field. came to know the kinds
of grape, name them with gentleness in no

particular order. but who’s he? the world
is on fire and it’s a state. the state is on fire

and it’s a boy! walking this morning i stop
to find a necklace in my path. i look for it

everywhere but it can’t be found. i know
a thing is not a clue just because it has been

left behind. my desire is not a clue. it has
none. i thought there might be trees here.