Piñata Theory
Blindfolded for entertainment, I was
given a broomstick and told to hit
a moving target.
When I swung my dizzy arms
an adult on a chair would pull
on a string to yank the rainbow
fluff of goodies out of reach. Everyone
laughed and sang about hitting the cardboard
carcass, but I only became more
lost. I wanted to prove them
wrong, focused harder in the dark-
ness. .
Piñata Theory #2 ½
Tonight is a cliffside—
everyone here is loose and breaking
something might bring us together—
we went from smashing Spidermans
to what we can’t see—getting our spins
and tumbles from tequila and Sierras,
pretending to be ourselves but never
trusting the brakes—a different kind
of broken—a slower waking
up—each morning becoming more
monster—needing a harder
sort of destruction—