Poem ofthe Day

The Lucky Criminals
By Kevin Prufer

We are not equal to our criminals. A raftful floats by every day,
dainty blue canopies flaring in the breeze. Cigarettes dangling

from downturned mouths, eyes screwed to the shore -
the criminals are slim and beautiful, draped

in their lawnchairs so their fingers leave trails in the river water.
They are sentimental and lean, shirtless and droop-eyed.

Oh to dig my tired toes into the soft mud of the bank,
the pickpocket says. To drop coins in the river and retrieve them,

to retrieve all the coins that have ever been dropped in the river.
The others are silent, smoke leaking from their mouths. Wishes

are everything to criminals, and the burl of black clouds over the trees
is unimportant. My father was buried with a mouthful

of stolen gems, the con-man replies, swiping his guitar. I dug
one hundred holes in the yard before I found them. The black clouds

curl into mouths that rustle the trees. Around their feet,
fifteen bags of coins. The hacker picks his golden teeth, the falsely accused

stares hungrily to our shore. Our women are in love with criminals.
They have the soft glow of lamplight on pavement on clear nights after rain.

How we envy criminal ambition. We are strung like pearls
on the weedy shore, white-faced and furious as they pass.

Our dinner burns, our children cry, and the wind cools
as the storm sweep over. Justice, justice, we call to them.

But the long-fingered criminals in their gorgeous swimsuits,
the lawless with their guns draped over their chairs, the shifty-eyed

and doomed with bare chests, the exciting - they'll never notice us.

The End of the World

Since January I've had the recurring nightmare of an Apocalypse. They vary in degree of scariness, locations, people I interact with...but I wake up with the same physiological reaction each time.
The first one I had in January was the most horrifying. Very reminiscent of Cormac McCarthy's The Road. I was with my family. The sky was a blanket of ash. Headlights shone through the dust and soon huge trucks came rumbling towards us. The people running nearby were being shot down.

Since this nightmare I've seen the Golden Gate bridge engulfed in rising water as a steamboat crashed through it's lines. I've seen skyscrapers collapse all around me as the sun turns deep red with smoke. I've seen mankind turn into cannibalistic robots who repair the destroyed cities every night only so they can ruin them again the next day. I've run from splitting asphalt, ducked behind buildings, jumped off bridges, cried in countless friends arms, and watched several people I love be captured or killed.
And in each dream there is always someone holding my hand throughout it all. This person varies as well. It's usually a male, sometimes a familiar face, sometimes a stranger.

I wake up and I'm always shivering always terrified. The first few times I had this dream I woke up and said "fuck The Road," but now I wonder..
I always wake up with a racing heart and feel like "they" are outside my room waiting to hear me breathe.
I always want to call people from my past to make sure they are still alive and I always wake up and realize there is nobody holding my hand.

Pre-Death List

I was cleaning out a drawer in my childhood room and came across my List of Things To Do Before I Die

The very first thing on the list is "Flying Lessons." Really? That's the first thing I thought of? I'm sort of scared of flying. Although maybe that's why I wanted the lessons..

I wrote the list in High School. It was exciting to see I'm able to cross a few things off:
- Ballet lessons
- Sky dive
- Get a manicure & pedicure (wtf? lame.)
- Be an extra in a film
- Walk across Golden Gate & Brooklyn Bridge

A few others I realized I may have to re-evaluate:
- Be on "Price is Right"and get kiss from Bob Barker
- Meet Tom Cruise (oh Tom, how you've fallen so)
- Work at Disneyland as Belle (pssh yeah right)

It may be about time I write a new list.