© copyright 1996-2009 by Michael G. Breece

The Asian man who parked beside me has long since come and gone.

I've sat here for an hour and a half with the car running.
Once there was shade, now the sun intrudes.
The entire time, behind me, is a weather beaten blond with bad posture.
All she's done during my wait is slightly alter a string fence blocking cars from driving on freshly laid black tar.
Her existence is nearly as pointless as my own.

La Hacienda

This white noise isn't sleep, it's indifference.
His foot taps, light ricochets off sleek objects.
Orange tatters dance in the breeze, as a vehicle sits confused.
Surely someone somewhere is in the midst of sexual gratification, while another gasps for their final breath, children laugh on a playground far from here.

Cup Of Cordial (Dec-13-2003 1:25am)

Transactions occur every night out back.
The unwanted don't arrive, if they did...we won't go into that, yes?
A slipcase covers the item.
Fats waters the plants.
After zipping the pig, we go around front for a cup of coffee and a cheese Danish.
Consider yourself cordially invited.

Drug Store Window (Dec-16-2003 4:16am)

Nix ambitions, he walked into a clear glass window.
Lit cigarette sparks wildly, she attempted a kiss.
The swimming pool was full of taut bodies, though none glistened with prosperity.
Once, a drama teacher complimented his design.
Later, she was seen at a discount drug store being cheap foundation.

Fuck The DMV (Dec-17-2003 7:49am)

Morning rain falls down upon this suburban dream.
The yard won't be mowed today.
The same neighborhood I grew up in, I remain still.
A car killed my dog here.
It was a calm clear day, I was in bed reading.
The Beach Boys were on the stereo.
The sound of planes and trains cut through the air often.
At least I've never seen a murder.
Once I cracked the windshield of my mother's car with my fist.
Sometimes I think of all the things I've never done.

Garage Into Townhouse (12-15-2003 1:36am)

Light lifted from air
Stolen fragments of his vehicle
Filtered notions will never stain water.
Eleven specified cups left this station
The table became a mouse
He walked like a car salesman after issuing unwanted waste.
Find the mask in the closet, underneath the second step.

Presumed (January 6, 2004 9:05am)

Sterile rooms, water drips, hair growth contours.
Spinning fans, they spit.

Due Date (January 16, 2004)

The courtroom was full of presumptions, it looked like a Mexican diner.

Slivers Of Silver Tinsel (Dec-30-2003 5am)

Sizing the slice, the mange takes hold.
The bathrooms are a mess.
The mister says to take no more than 5 hours, but I'm not sure this is possible.
Behind us is an old dirty $400 a month red brick apartment building where lights shine sporadically from windows, in front a war memorial can be found.

Stylistic Stops Between Now And Then, But Before Then And There (Dec-13-2003 2:08am)

The same slot, day after day.
Key to paint, he looks beyond the nearest station.
Sipping gasoline and filling tarts, the fondest hour.
He hasn't a clue as to what is next.
Over to the left, a forgotten bottle can be found.
In it, a soiled brush.
She didn't wish to fall, though her knee found its way regardless.

Tweak, The Social Engagement (Dec-22-2003 1:20am)

We found them in a meadow, curled up naked in a ball.
Hiding from humility.
They were found naked in a meadow.
Pretending to hover above us.

Caught v.1

I finished the night at work, starring at myself in a large window. Watched the sunrise. If only I knew what these security cameras caught.

Caught v.2

I had finished a nights work two hours early. Sitting in a lounge at the back of the building starring at myself in a large window while the sun rose. If only I knew what these security cameras caught.

You lack sleep, sit there awhile, take an aspirin, you fear days like this, as though you might have a stroke, nothing in your family history to suggest the possibility, nonetheless sit there and be still.


A doctor and his son move equipment from an office, they encounter the janitor, the son must learn his place in the world.

I Save Lives

There in the corner, seven chairs have been stacked, one on top of the other. Adjacent to this you will find a water cooler. Roughly 45 pounds of water, I eased the large bottle onto it’s stand, slowly pierced the nozzle into it, so that now any of the unhealthy individuals who work here can fill their carefully selected white styrofoam cup and bloat themselves into an inopportune trip to the bathroom in order to urinate. Don’t forget to change the empty toilet paper roll, they will.


Death awaits us, littered along the road, at each and every turn, the moonlight reveals the inevitable carnage, no escape, as we make our way home, the others…they pass us as though they have somewhere to go.


Sympathetic corners, subjective smiles, these boxes must be marked TRASH for me to throw them away, call your supervisor and tell her to stop taking Vicoden every waking moment that she gets.

It was such a blah day, you have given me my first laugh.

The picture you placed in my head of a stinking drunk freak giggling to himself and whispering "woo hoo" as he stuffs his jacket with classical cd's. The workers at the store decline stopping him both out of fear and because he's just so damned fun to watch, as he tip-toes out the door causing the alarms to ring out in his wake.