Trans-Am Superman
We are ten and uber-nerds drumming and
conducting Latino music in our gold, fire bird Trans-Am
tuned to 105.3-The Heat Beat.
Queenie drives us to underwater
castle and causeways clinging with
algae that shiver with one stir of
Ursala's ventilation.
I wear Velcro camo with a fat,
Roma tomato belly
protruding onto the doughnut of flamingo floats.
Superman saves the silly straw-one sip at a time.
The viruses in multitudes choreograph a smile
to the click of the soggy box on that lazy river day.
Some gorgeous writing in there. Check out some Marie Howe. I think often that these drafts embedded with memories (either real or imagined) can often tap into surprising material. She often does this sort of transposition well. Check out her book "What the Living Do" or any poem that you can find from her that deals with her childhood.
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