flippers for wings

i have the look

of a fish in the freezer

of a supermarket

hoping for a home

or at least

a meal

when she kisses me

and leaves

soon after

*

my dreams must be

a way of getting back

at me for living in

this reality like

a fortune cookie before

the break,

just a piece of paper

waiting for hands

and a sweet tooth

that decays with

and from it

*

little mice

dance into the garden

eating our herbs and vegetables

and our little thoughts

of living off the land

which now

lives off us

moneyless

hopeless

with nothing but the mice

moneyless

hopeless

to eat,

little as they are

though they might

still be full

of us

and our vegetables

if we get them soon

but never soon enough

for we think too much

about killing them

and how bad we feel

about looking inside

for our money

our hopes

and our carrots