Ghost Women In Another Vegas - A Poem
This is better than the last testament to her will, which has been reduced to a manuscript hidden in a rare and rusting trunk. Frothing and varnished, it waits.
Trump’s Wife Packing Luggage
I dreamt I was Donald Trump’s wife. We were traveling.
He basically kept me in the dark about our itinerary.
I didn’t know where we were going or when we were going.
I had an enormous amount of luggage.
Many little pieces that needed to be fitted into larger pieces.
And of course every place we went, I had to unpack the little pieces,
lots of jewelry and cosmetics, little jars and bottles and boxes.
There was no thunder, no glowing doorway, no mysterious wind blowing through the apartment, and no choir of angels politely alerting me that physics had submitted its resignation.
The deck simply felt heavier.