I am born in the slums of a jungle;
It is hot and I am always thirsty.
I drink water from the fountain
It has magic that quenches
My neighbors say
the fountain is
But that was before–
then became now.
At 3 AM savage
jabber and howl.
“Who do you love most,” asks God.
“Jayne Mansfield,” says Max.
“And why is that?” God is cleverly
“She’s dead.” Max replies.
(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2016 All Rights Reserved
Her death leaves
of captured fireflies,
of wisteria and
the scent of
of taffy pulls
of Christmas and
the Wizard of Oz,
Image and text Rob Goldstein (c) 2017
This me, not
hips and ribs;
Words and image (c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved
A million scary bugs hide in the cracks of these walls.
They wait in the dark and when they think that I’m asleep
they drop into bed.
The scariest bugs are mosquito hawks; they have wings as
sharp as knives.
I pull the blanket over his my head and dream about angels.
They are naked and very pretty
Their nakedness makes me tingle
Dad says the angels tingle like that too.
Suddenly a spider as big as a hand lands on my bed!
But Dad says hush now and think about heaven.
Image and text Rob Goldstein (c) 2017 all rights reserved