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Green grapefruit leaves,
Roughly arranged within a rounded glass vase,
The magnified fruits, lime-colored,
A mystical masterpiece in her red eye-whites,
The mother’s home again and the day was long,
Vodka stings the lips of the lady,
Searching in the night’s light,
Barefoot and bare-handed lady,
Clipping thorn-rich stems with dull scissors,
Always desperate for inspiration,
Looking to the moon and talking to the trees,
That slices at her little hands.

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Abandoned car dealership,
Once bouncing with glittering rounds,
Specialty cars of political movements,
The love and membership of many men and artists,
Craftsman of the trade,
Swiped soft chamois against sparkling custom paint,
Now compounded underneath cold white,
Remnants of silky oil,
The ghosts of fragrant exhaust,
The father still smells and sees in his dreams.

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Beams rotting inside the body of a hangar,
The organs tearing from time’s weight,
The city will suffocate life from within this place,
A chamber of history,
A relic of the Second World War,
The grandfather of 2004,
Sturdy, value-packed capsule,
Whose work is finished—laid now to rest?
“Fire destroys hangar at Galveston airport...cause unknown”.

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Hot Spring SPA, “a symphony underwater”,
Slide gently into this oasis,
Bubbles will lift dead weight,
Heavy red muscles will soak inside,
A lagoon of gyrating liquid relief,
Revel in the pleasure while the eyes tear,
After the shame rinses off the face, Provider,
Blood will dissolve above the skin,
Vanity will rip food from the baby’s mouth,
Before the foreclosure,
One last major expense.