Death Trips In Apex Park

In Target

An axe-murderer was on the loose when 

I saw an old memory in Target.

You don’t imagine your memories in 

Target when you think of them. 

You don’t imagine them doing anything really, 

but they do exist I suppose. 

Your old memories need stuff like cheap floor heaters 

at the start of every winter and the latest women’s fashion. 

Not long after, I saw it a second time at a pub 

near my old house and brought up that I saw it in Target 

looking at bed sheets—

and if it was worried about the serial killer.

Towards the end of the evening, I saw a handsome man 

leading my old memory to his comically small car, 

soon to make a memory of his own.

He opened the door for it

and my memory was off now—

off to live in the general merchandise retailers of my imagination.

I hoped to get murdered walking back to my 

apartment, but that didn’t happen.

Bricks

Science is dead.

Of yore like wood panel walls and 

waterbeds—

and white dog shit.

We only believe in piles of bricks now.

Red bricks and brown bricks and yellow bricks,

and the bricks still to come— 

like Oliver Twist wanted his extra slop, 

we want more bricks please, Sir—

can we have some more?

Canadian Club

Driving home from work

behind a hearse, it’s strange to think that there’s a 

dead body just there in that glass

station wagon—

and my mind drifts for a moment 

to hearse related minor traffic accidents

and the police report of it—

one dead in reverse parking incident.

A bus pulled up next to the hearse 

and it had an advertisement for Canadian Club

on all of the windows.

It’s strange to think that there’s 

a dead body just there next to the Canadian 

Club advertising.

I drove on a bit behind the hearse

and thought about all the things you think about 

when you see a hearse out on the road

with a dead body in it—

if I was living my life to the fullest—

if I’m over beer.