“don’t touch it”; backyard apple tree groundshades the thrown and wasted doll; we walk on wood floors; the parental bedspread is patterned paisley mold purring; for the eviscerated disappearing waking times; of much later; we have a family; room with a red carpet of individuated strands; limp spider legs pinned to a stapled- down gut; once a mushroom grew from the damp corner; we discover it en-route to see The Ten Commandments we must take a photo; I pose by the mushroom; with a charming look on my face; while we are gone the black cat eats it; like we knew she would; Christ nothing; good ever lasts; marcate time; with lines of asylum; behind the line; lining it up; of marigolds and of asters; a girl there busted; an overcast day; blood did trickle in little bits; white bread poolside lunches; waiting; to get back in again; what’s the word; Corn Whiskey Thunderbird; what’s the price; one dollar twice; I met Satan; he was clear; between air and music; the music was a bad Hall & Oates song; the air was menthol cigarette smoke; Mother pretended to be dead; on the couch and was; sex pumped by an overweight man; cremated Great Grandmother sent a present; a black bent pipe cleaner; with a black bean face; playing a bottle cap banjo; sitting on a miniature bale of cotton; the priest visited; said; last time he picked me up, I hurt his back; house interior; linoleum; aluminum seared; the insides cans and brains; the doorknobs have been removed; we are in the house;     it is night; rolls of butcher paper; lying still; we trace one another; we do this from our hiding place; we are playing Sardines; the last one to find us will come into this darkness; and we shall shout; SARDINES; touch it; some solar tender through the small metal holes; in the front yard; I turned; saw; my house; was every color