Diane And The Can Of Squid (5 of 5)

Diane and I didn’t talk till late in the week,
too late to make plans before she returned to school.
I wanted to can me, California-style fool.
I didn’t buy the can of squid. I didn’t seek

a relationship with the absurd cosmic tweak
that tweaked my plans to meet with Diane some place cool.
No lunch. No dinner. No museum. ‘No’s unspool . . .
What’s tomorrow? Same as today. No need to peek.

So Diane is back at school in another state.
Susan has the grocery store’s squid prices online.
I’m treading water over the trench of my id—

that is aisle four at the store, if I may conflate.
I’m trying to convince Susan to change the sign
on aisle four to read, ‘Stupid fucking cans of squid.’

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Diane And The Can Of Squid (1 of 5)

Diane And The Can Of Squid (2 of 5)

Diane And The Can Of Squid (3 of 5)

Diane And The Can Of Squid (4 of 5)