Pore People

There are no nails on my fingers when they 

Press down

Chopping baby hairs off

(my hair fell out)

When I was young

(one)

The geese scrape Ritz crackers off the grass

Pore strips

Rip into wet

(dry) 

Fields

Groping Lake Merritt ground

Bald babies bald thighs

Pick the 30 second setting

On the Nair

On the 

Air dry whining hand dry

That mutilates my varicose veins 

My mother says I will hate my crunchy blue veins when I am seventy one

And my vulva is 

Loose dry crinkled

Torn into chopped up

And scattered across the Fairyland fields 

For Oakland birds who have not yet had a second dinner