sixty watts


crash down from the ceiling I can


to the tune of light bulbs breakings



and breakers that malfunction in twitches



to be electric,

with circuits like veins
stinging my body


oh, would I be a dream


of soundless, stirring fires.


ambrose


on a damp deck
down on Hollywood
my grandfather
sat with growing belly
dangling over sweaty
trousers,
though pleated.

stretched his frame out like
a lawn chair

swallowed down a glass
of lemonade
and taught me
follow the ace.