birds are not real, but birdfeeders are
so are the squirrels that raid them
angels are real
so are the bless’d anvils where angels are beaten into existence
with imaginary hammers
carnations and dahlias and oleanders, not real
sugarcane is real, cocaine is unreal
horse lemons, real
flag wax, real
frisbee golf, real, but illegal in all fifty-seven states
yesterday i re-read revenge of the lawn
by richard brautigan, this time with my eyes open
watching out for stray lawn darts
richard brautigan is real
but bird’s nest soup is not
i have an uncle named jay bird, yeah, that’s his real name
he lives in florida
which isn’t real, unless you’re a snowbird and enjoy shuffleboard
and don’t mind all the whackadoos
politicians are real
and taste like chicken
two fish swimming in a fishbowl, neither will speak to the other
they swim in angry circles
one fish starts to think, and think
and think
then swims up to the other and says: oh yeah, well, if god isn’t real
who changes the water?
birds are not real, but flying fish are
roosters, not real
flamingos, not real
pink plastic flamingo lawn ornaments, real
today i am re-re-reading revenge of the lawn
but this time much slower, looking for clues
i know d.b. cooper is hiding in there, and bigfoot
canada is real, but only in picture books
the cellphone superglued to the palm of your hand is real
but your facebook friends are not
and guess what- neither are you
hidden messages emitted from fluorescent lights are real, but i’m unclear
on the science of tinfoil hats, will they save me from electromagnetic madness
or just cook my potato-shaped head even faster?
my distress is real
(and i don’t want to live in a world with no birds and an evil cabal of imaginary
squirrels selling birdseed on every street corner and artificial flamingos playing
frisbee golf with my naked-as-a-jay-bird uncle in a town with no carnations where
the kool-aid flows like streaming reality shows and mr potatohead is the mayor)
tomorrow i will re-re-re-read revenge of the lawn
this time backwards
in the bathtub, with the lights turned off
birds are not real
but their shadows are
jalopy dreams 