snapshots from the Garden of Eden 



the blue morning sunlight  
entering the bedroom window 
colors a white Babar comforter. 

               a Kmart bluelight heralds 
               special irregular linens
               attracting hoards of housewives. 

the rush of costumed actors  
transforming the green room into a train station 
stirs looseleaf scripts. 

               a petrified Douglas fir stands 
               monumentally, a sign 
               reading: "Last evergreen." 

pooling on the summer sidewalk  
a single scoop of strawberry ice cream  
evaporates into humidity.  

                    the pesticide parathion coats 
                    back-bent illegals
                    picking suburban field strawberries. 

the cow-shaped salt-and-pepper shakers 
tipping tail-up gracefully
season a tureen of bouillabaisse 

                    gunshots pepper the barred windows 
                    shot by young American gangsters 
                    whooping in rusted junkcars. 

Adam and Eve 
walk naked in cooled condominiums 
sans self-stringent complexities. 



     --jennifer crystal chien