[a Turtle Jumped From The Third Story] Poem by Aaron Eliad

A turtle jumped from the third story
into a cannon like spider where he drove
as I played it back in my head.
The plan was amazing
even for most amazing people
to say like ticket coaches.
Positive letters like n's and t's,
know misery better than p's and b's.
It rains into the evening
as I play it back in my head.
I am washing my dreams
into stacks of cards
I keep in a cigarette box
behind the alley I see things move
and rehabilitate laughter
like shouting was impossible in the theater
so we moved into a sicker cat with better bones.
His lungs work hard every day against shadows.
I played it back in my head as the train stops,
you look for our cards
but our pictures weren't taken.
My soul wasn't empty;
I wanted bullpups to chew very small holes in me
that fancy things can live in.