aw lawdy lawdy don't you know can you imagine the paleness of her nakedness cast against the darkness of the room

her room

the suburban moonlight streetlight starlight cocktail a silky mojito of phosphorescence washes in through the pier one bamboo shades washes through under over her bathes her with a softness gone missing in the moment i hold grab take her breasts bountiful buckets of love and rockets squeeze knead push her away she looming large above me her hands palms flat on my chest her lips leaning in a lubed hand reaching behind beneath in that style she has oh that style she has she sends me yes she sends me i spin for her in the web she's spun for me sticky sticky that lubed hand stroking my cock transferring that smooth silkiness readying me readying herself

there is no music the beat goes on there is no tension the lines are taut there is no mystery momma done gone call the cops the robber's been caught

she done stole my soul all is lost

a buck a twist a handful of hair a grip learned in ancient sparta wrestling naked boys in lives past lives lost all is lost my hand on her throat

covering the scar left behind by jesus mary joseph

i say holding her down on the bed that is too large that allows her escape in the sleeping hours that affords her the chance to build the fortress round her dreams

keeping me out

i say holding her down on the bed she straining against the grip breath hard tongue over tooth on lip i whisper i beseech my hand on her throat i say just two words i say

tell me

that's all i want that's all i need i just need her to tell me

aw lawdy lawdy don't you know can you imagine the paleness of her nakedness cast against the darkness of the room

ghost fucking

aw lawdy lawdy don't you know don't you just know sometimes i'm watching my big old tee vee tune into the wayback channel some sixties seventies drama there's this woman you know her this woman of the world she has her apartment in the city she has her high fallutin' job in a highrise she's hip she's hep

she wears black at inappropriate times

because she's cool and she can get away with it you know audrey hepburn breakfast at tiffany's cool without the innocence she has her fancy job she has her liberal attitude her own personal je ne sais quoi that oftentimes leaves her unapproachable yet she has a lover

a married man

ah the story turns eyebrows lift murmurous rumors over coffee in the booth in the back in the corner yes she is in love with a married man who lives in the lovely hillside suburbs with his lovely wife and his lovely child he just needs a little bit more than the deck with the view of the city and the good schools

george washington cut down the cherry tree
abe lincoln got a hole in the head
good school good bike never scraped my knee
jay eff kay well he be dead

and the good schools and the driveway reserved for the weekend car and the trees and the grass that must be cut trimmed raked bagged and the parks with the overly safe play structures soft landing rounded corners the sandboxes with no needles the rules that keep out the bums

and the khaki oh baby all that khaki

one day i'm a movin' to alabama
gonna buy me a tractor and a lucky charm
one day i'll be grinnin' at the bank
gonna start me a big old khaki farm

he just needs a little bit more outside the regular don't you know the regular it just don't work for him any more did it ever really work seemed the thing to do at the time but wait but wait it's not like that he had the love yeah

he had the love he just never felt the rockets

they meet happenstance the ether just sort of brings them together a chance meeting on the street corner a small gust of wind blows the loose stack of papers from her arms he stoops to help she kneels all lady like it's the corporate seventies it's hose and heels it's fat tie fat knot and hair over the ears the wet head is dead they look up at the same time their eyes meet

love at first sight it's tee vee but don't you know it happens yes it happens

it's a mad passionate love affair he declares his love for her she declares her love for him

i say holding her down on the bed pinning her she struggling she straining against the grip breath hard tongue over tooth on lip i whisper i beseech my hand on her throat i say just two words i say

tell me

that's all i want that's all i need i just need her to tell me

aw lawdy lawdy don't you know can you imagine the paleness of her nakedness cast against the darkness of the room

ghost fucking

she says wrestling her arms free struggling out from under me she says twisting up along my side slithering she says

no

and strikes sinks her teeth into the skin she my viper she my asp my snake she strikes sinks her teeth into the muscle above the left nipple biting deep puncturing my heart breath deep i grab a handful of her hair pull her back i want her gone she's not going she's got hold of me like a fucking pit bull biting deep puncturing my heart

breath deep

there is no music the beat goes on there is no tension the lines are taut there is no mystery momma done gone call the cops the robber's been caught

she done stole my soul all is lost
 
it's a mad passionate love affair

they talk they laugh they play she pulls the thorns from his paw weaves love into her drawings he steps warily into her world he jumps wildly into her pond scrambles to the beach spins her so turns her inside out sometime she don't know up from down and that is so oh kay with her

they have lunch that is not lunch but is sustenance nonetheless that is lips and nibbles and giggles and he takes part time leave of his suburban haven every once in a while he dabbles and dips in his toe tests the water she invites him to swim in her bay she opens up a window on her life she lets him in

she lets him play in her sandbox
there may be needles no guarantee
there is no rhythm hell it's just tee vee

it's a mad passionate love affair he declares his love for her she declares her love for him they make lovers' plans for a future in a perfect world they would have already been together

breath deep

there is no music the beat goes on there is no tension the lines are taut there is no mystery momma done gone call the cops the robber's been caught

she done stole my soul all is lost

my hand to her throat i have to cut off the air to get her to convince her to beg her to remove her fangs from my heart it bleeds i bleed for her goddamn i bleed i give my blood nail me upside down on the cross of saint peter i shall deny you three times before the cock crows i cannot deny you i breathe you i am hazel motes i deny your existence you are the church of christ without christ i cannot deny you i walk your path broken glass and rocks in my shoes i breathe deeply your soul barbed wire tight round my chest

i blind myself with the acid of a lime

tell me

i beg i demand

that's all i want that's all i need i just need her to tell me

aw lawdy lawdy don't you know can you imagine the paleness of her nakedness cast against the darkness of the room

ghost fucking

she climbs atop me straddles me sets herself around me slides down upon me engulfs me in one swallow one gulp her cunt a velvety throat gripping giving i try to buck her off she leans forward her breasts bobbing befriending bouncing on my chin i buck she rides arches her back arm up like she's back in texas on the bull back in the texas she claims as her own the arm swings down

she slaps me hard

twice

on the cheek on my cheeks

it stings it burns
put da lime in da coconut
i love i learn
turns out i'm a loyal fucking mutt

who fuckin' woulda guessed

she rides me hard

it's a mad passionate love affair he declares his love for her she declares her love for him they make lovers' plans for a future in a perfect world they would have already been together

he goes home to his wife and kid in the lovely neighborhood with the tree lined streets with the noise ordinances with the lovely school it's only for a little while only a couple more years maybe five who knows

if it's wednesday it must be meatloaf

outasightoutamind

she spins lost at first scared frightened she goes to lunch with friends her close friends they sit around the table they eat fondue long toothpick shishkabobs various meats in hot bubbling oil bread in cheese strawberries in chocolate they tsk tsk they say they declare with some sort of collective knowing with some sort of village council wisdom

he's never leaving her

hands stretched across the table touching caressing her own clucking some sort of tribal chant warding off evil spirits a cult of confederate cunts gone undesired priestesses of urbane paradox

you know he's never leaving her

she is the monk crossing the mongol steppes one step at a time the first few feet of the trek fuck the journey seems so long goddamn it goes forever it goes and it just goes will it never end

a tunnel with no light would be so much easier the solid feel of the rock walls comforting even in the dark there's only forward and back the choice so simple either or one or the other

the open light of the steppes daunting like the food court at the mall so many too many fucking choices most of them horrible potentially threatening

you know he's never leaving her

she shrugs whatever seems sort of like having to take care of your slow little sister the one your parents left you with and you're afraid the elements are simply too harsh for her

we all have baggage we all have obligations

she loves him anyway love it's fucked up if he never leaves her if he never leaves her maybe never will come around sooner rather than later love it's funny that way

i blind myself with the acid of a lime

tell me

i beg i demand

that's all i want that's all i need i just need her to tell me

aw lawdy lawdy don't you know can you imagine the paleness of her nakedness cast against the darkness of the room

ghost fucking

she climbs atop me straddles me sets herself around me slides down upon me engulfs me in one swallow one gulp her cunt a velvety throat gripping giving i try to buck her off she leans forward her breasts bobbing befriending bouncing on my chin i buck she rides arches her back her arm up like she's back in texas on the bull the arm swings down

she slaps me hard

she leans over she sinks her teeth into the lobe of my ear she tells me she tastes my blood i bleed for her she whispers harshly she says to me

i fucking love you i'm always going to be with you

her friends cluck she smiles she looks out the window the bridge the cars they come they go the fog the lights the moon a cocktail of journeys returning leaving

she knows he's coming over tomorrow she can't wait

there is no music the beat goes on there is no tension the lines are taut there is no mystery momma done gone call the cops the robber's been caught

she done stole my soul all is lost love it's a fucked up thing love it's funny that way

ghost fucking and all that

joe fran standing in front of the absinthe beer in his hand the corner of bourbon and bienville joe fran he's still wearing his grey pinstripe suit from the conference his blue euro tie falling loosely about his hollywood throat the collar of his shirt unbuttoned the white crest of his tee shirt stifling the mysteries within

reach a hand to the crescent moon grab hold of the hollow

joe fran he says hey i have a joke you guys want to hear a joke jay star he's ignoring joe fran not on purpose simply with his own unfocused stumbling self awareness he's looking at me he says he stumbles back a couple of steps he stumbles left right and back to me the french quarter hokey pokey jay stark he says

hey man

he points to his lip he says hey man does it look like i have a cold sore on my lip jay star he's looking a little funny been a few weeks since i've seen him jay star he's looking a little funny can't quite put my finger on it his hair is a bit longer true his shirt unbuttoned the red blends in with the grey pubic hairs that crawl up his chest that threaten to strangle him swamp spiders swarming the throat that's it the grey the lack thereof

on his head nothing but red

he's dying his hair

i say i say dude

well you know i wasn't going to say anything i mean you know not like i was going to take you down behind the bushes on jackson square and give you a good in out bend you over a beignet cart give you that special sauce don't you know it's not really my business you and your cold sores just don't be putting those lips near a pussy i might come across

he says jay star he says dude

that's where married but sometimes free girl put her lips on mine got me in the lip lock just wouldn't let go goddamn that girl i don't got no virus that i know of

i say i say dude

that woman she put a spell on you she set you spinning she broke your heart now she got her lips locked on you again

he says jay star he says dude

the zan man he says running his hand over his smooth shaved head walking up in his finest south miami strut his florida by way of new york glow exploding like a gaslight on the streets of old you can hear the sizzling of moths entering the flame the zan man walking up joining us at the corner

the zan man he says yo jay star dude what's with the hair man

when you go weeks months without seeing someone i guess it's just the little things that pop right out at you jay star he turns to joe fran he says unconsciously running his hand fingers spread like a fleshy hair pick through his hair he's letting it go long he says

tell me a joke

joe fran he's forgotten the joke he's trying to talk to a couple of women ten fifteen years younger he does well he's got them giggling blushing one is playing with his tie sliding the knot slowly up and down

zan the man his hands in his pockets jangling his balls zan the man he says comments i bet she's shaved clean and smooth me i say yeah it doesn't matter she still wears the iron clad panties her baptist mom gave her jay star he says yeah but they're edible 

joe fran he looks a bit like frank sinatra maybe frank sinatra junior jay star he grabs him by the arm drunkenly pulls him over the girls the women they look at each other they look at joe fran stumbling backwards his eyes still locked on the tits and ass all wrapped up in new orleans evening ware jay star he says

tell me a joke

joe fran he watches the young ladies walking away he shakes his head he walks back up joins our little group we're on corner patrol outside the absinthe joe fran he says

so this guy he's walking in the woods with this kid it's late at night it's dark as death a low fog meanders through the trees an owl hoots from the darkness above a screech jumps out at them from behind the brush the kid he looks up at the guy the kid he says it's pretty weird out here in the woods i'm scared the guy he looks down at the kid he says yeah i know what you mean you think you're scared

i've gotta walk out of here alone

joe fran he stands there before us he smiles no he grins toothy and wide joe fran he his arms out slightly palms up a shrug

a moment of eerie silence

a snicker a cough a shuffle a laugh a guffaw soon we're rolling we're slapping each other on the back it doesn't take much we're in the french quarter

we each have to walk out of here alone

the faux gas lamps on bourbon street set the sky aflame the humidity oozed in from the waterfront seeped up from the swamp

just like back home

the sky aflame late in the evening a couple of old tires a couple of short stumpy pine logs a mess of fat lighter a couple shots of everclear the night is on fire

in the middle of the woods two or three dirt roads off the hahira highway  a clearing bordering the railroad tracks we drive up slowly easing the tires of my barracuda through and over the mud holes driven deep and wide through years of thunderstorms and four wheel drive monster trucks we creep up through the darkness of the woods driving with only our parking lights navigating by feel and knowledge of the woods enter the clearing all aflame three or four over by the fire a couple others meandering back from their car earl the pearl he of the legendary cock is shaking it off along the edge of the far side then shaking his leg hokey pokey style as he stuffs it back into his pants

i've been away haven't around much lately been away for the year the old gang is here the rain has been kind and gentle the fungal harvest bountiful i've been away most have remained behind there's a draw there's a haunting pull to the place family the lack thereof strong

we fall out of the car we me the tall wall cee kay we have a paper bag a crumpled brown bag doubled up we reach in we are the disciples of the lord we walk through the masses we reach in we hand out buttons here we hand out buttons there the basket of loaves never seems to empty we prepare ourselves for the sermon on the mount

blessed are ye who weep now for ye shall laugh blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see god

we gather round the fire though we are far from being pure either in flesh or spirit we fear not the forest but stand in awe before our fears our sins simmer in the song of midnight singe the sky with lapping flames the rhythm of the song the heavy bass pop popping of pine tar bubbling the tires hissing a sizzling swamp solo gaseous and guilty we move we sway the old bullfrog preaching the word the chorus of the cricket choir chiming amen brother amen sister

we laugh we laugh we laugh

we are in love with the world the south georgia clouds sit high against the crescent moon heat lightening flashes orange leaving lingering lashes of lust sky swirling we try to speak we endeavor to maintain conversation we are easily distracted thoughts interrupt thoughts the heat lightening oh my hey charlie kay hey big tall wall hey earl the pearl hey hey hey sweet little yvonne whom i never told the truth the truth of my love hey annie green hey sally tee hey weatherman red we move we sway we giggle we play

we waltz

a bow a curtsy hand to hand dust kicks up it's more a mosh pit of meager meandering than an ivory merchant period piece ex marks the spot sugar soothes the morning shakes we spin around the fire we seek the tribe of lost ancestors all of us mongrels

where is this place

deep in the woods within the swamps next to a railroad track coming from some dark nowhere leading on to another dark nowhere maybe they will meet up down the road we dance we slide

and when i'm sad i slide

back on bourbon street mister vee walks up with mister fitz and big bald bry who points at a young lass walking no actually skipping up the street bry points and says

ass to mouth

we look her way we look bry's way we look her way we look bry's way he shrugs he says hey she's a porn star jenna something she's famous for

ass to mouth

we check her out we let our imaginations loose a bit we wander in that mind's menagerie of personal debauchery we lusted in our hearts we lusted in our loins then we let her go

yet she increased her whoring remembering the days of her youth when she played the whore in the land of egypt and lusted after her paramours there whose members were like those of donkeys and whose issue was like that of horses

ah have your freedom jenna

jay star he looks at mister vee he says hey man want to hear a joke he doesn't wait for an answer he wraps his arm around mister vee ropes in fitz and bry he says grinning big and looking from side to side he says

so this guy he's walking in the woods with this kid it's late at night it's dark as death a low fog meanders through the trees an owl hoots from the darkness above a screech jumps out at them from behind the brush the kid he looks up at the guy the kid he says it's pretty weird out here in the woods i'm scared the guy he looks down at the kid he says yeah i know what you mean you think you're scared

i've gotta walk out of here alone

vee looks at me i shrug

an owl screeches from the sky a shadow sails silently across the ground the dancing stops suddenly we listen for god to speak

i could never understand the wind at all was like a ball of love when i'm sad i slide

the bullfrog's sermon drones on and on and on fading into nothingness like god himself fading into time it's about time it's about space about strange people in the strangest place fading into the darkness we all fade off into our own respective corners of the clearing weatherman red sings to himself off key but enthusiastic thirty eight special cover song

long time gone

annie greeneyes throws a pine cone his way it lands near the fire bounces big tall wall kicks it over the flames it disappears into the shadows he moans a long awwwww it disturbs the force we shiver with goose bumps bubbling up and down our legs

tickling my balls

my feet move shuffle lift and separate like festus in the bar marshal dillon drunk debauched six shooter dusting the bum's boots with little puffs of dust and cedar splinters i am a flame flying faggot in tites leaping across a burning piece of log strayed from the herd arms spread wide chest puffed plaid shirt tied about my waist wafting back like superman's cape i land gracefully my knee buckles ankle twists i eat the big brown breakfast roll roll roll my own come to a stop fourteen miles down the tracks

i sit up in the dirt picking pieces of the swamp from my knee wise blood

a crown of thorns

i wear barbed wire round my waist i put cut glass in my shoes i beat myself with a clothes hanger in the darkness of my room at night no god to hear my screams

then silence

no crickets no frogs no boogie man rustling in the bushes no snickers no letting of flatulence even the sizzling tires have hushed

i hear the love spinning in the whirlpool of life looking forward many many eons waiting for both feet darlin' i'm still waiting the water ain't that cold don't hold back ain't no fair keeping the secret wall safe forty left eighteen right second half left click click spin try again

both feet baby need both feet

oh my hey charlie kay hey big tall wall hey earl the pearl hey hey hey sweet little yvonne whom i never told the truth the truth of my love hey annie green hey sally tee hey weatherman red

hey hey it's lovely to see you it's been a while i know i been away only been a few months only two three hundred miles seems like forever seems like a galaxy far far away seems like i've returned from a foreign land after the wars i've been tainted i've gone through intimate alien anal probes it's just not something a guy talks about how does one tell friends family that it doesn't work any more that it never did work

really

just didn't know just didn't realize it wasn't working at all anyway

didn't know just didn't know til i went away til home left me

dancing in the darkness
beneath the wide open sky
home seems so small
don't know why
don't know why

the bullfrog preaches love thy neighbor does preacherman embrace the message in his core does he merely desperately wish pray beseech oh lord please don't let me be a victim of a vicious midnight gigging his last vision some bubba standing in the front of a flatbottom boat a q-beam in one hand a gig attached to a long grapestake in the other

a bearded neptune trident in hand it is mine to avenge

ehud then approached him while he was sitting alone in the upper room of his summer palace and said i have a message from god for you as the king rose from his seat ehud reached with his left hand drew the sword from his right thigh and plunged it into the king's belly even the handle sank in after the blade which came out his back ehud did not pull the sword out and the fat closed in over it then ehud went out to the porch he shut the doors of the upper room behind him and locked them

a gooseneck bud in the back pocket of his three sizes too big overhauls

bullfrog he says amen

god comes riding in on a freight train blasting through my head she's tied to the front on the cowcatcher splayed crucified

if i afixed
the cross
between your breasts
would your friends cry for
barabbus
as i crucify your heart

closer my god to thee splayed crucified a scar on her throat she breathes fire whispers

come free me

it takes me another thirty years to find my god my savior my salvation she's still just outside my reach

we wander

to our respective comfort zones at the edge of the clearing over near the tracks

the rumble the silence broken by the rumble we feel it in our feet up through our legs groins belly lungs head a whistle blows a light a tunnel of light blows through the edge followed quickly by the lead engine then car after car after car we move as close to the tracks to the train as we can we feel the dank breeze of its wake the smell strikes our stomachs strings of open cars stacked high with pine logs strings of empty box cars with the doors open on both sides a kinetoscope of

the other side

back on bourbon street we wander from bar to bar we are stuffed with frog legs from arnauds oysters and soft shell crab from the acme bread pudding from brennans tequila from the absinthe kind green bud from my suitcase thoughts of lust and potential debauchery from deep within

we stand as close to the train as we possibly can if we lean forward only an inch we'll be smacked back into the womb

we stand as close to the women on bourbon street as we possibly can if we lean forward only an inch we'll be smacked back into the womb

so this guy he's walking in the woods with this kid it's late at night it's dark as death a low fog meanders through the trees an owl hoots from the darkness above a screech jumps out at them from behind the brush the kid he looks up at the guy the kid he says it's pretty weird out here in the woods i'm scared the guy he looks down at the kid he says yeah i know what you mean you think you're scared

i've gotta walk out of here alone

deep in the dark woods of new orleans and all that

For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food,
For love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends.
        --  Ralph Waldo Emerson


aw c'mon slip it slip it to me sugar you can slip it to me all night long slip it slow slip it smooth hit me with your couplets they be so old fashioned they be so paisley and patchouli just like the hippies before my time they be so

traditional

i've always been a sucker for a good prayer always loved a good prayer

goddamn

i like 'em heavy from way down deep pray the lord your soul to keep twist you all up make you ache make you shiver make you shake lay you down in a feverish wake grab a hold embrace the snake fall down wiggling on the floor speak in tongue like abraham's whore

i like 'em floating all about like butterflies and smiles i dig 'em spinning and twirling like an uncaring child running in and out and around jumping up and tumbling down rejoicing oh rejoicing in the free fall laughing giggling girlfriend tickling my balls

i dig a prayer for the dead we all die alone tis true all loners in our grave no one left to pursue makes no difference who understands yet being left behind it ain't so grand we all need someone to hold our hand

i dig a thanksgiving prayer coming right from the heart

i like 'em to take a moment to give pause think about them things that we just plain forget to think about

goddamn always did dig thanksgiving always did yes ma’am always liked the food always liked hanging with family friends some years i got drunk some years i just got stoned some years i played football some years i just watched football some years i did it all but

i don’t think i ever got laid on thanksgiving don’t you know i thought about it shit don’t you know i’m thinking about it right now

but all in all this don’t suck

says brother dee jay we’re sitting on the roof sitting outside enjoying the redneck veranda outside the kitchen window sitting beneath the wondrous rays of november san francisco sun sitting in kicking back in camping chairs complete with cupholders into one we have wedged the almost perfectly fitting ashtray round block round hole ready to provide comfort and joy to the phat one we’ve rolled prepped ready for indulgence on this glorious california afternoon we’re watching the waves roll in ships sailing away across the horizon sailing in through the golden gate all viewed from within between the wires chimneys satellite dishes and other rooftop accoutrement

urban redneck at its finest

i nod concurrence agreement acknowledgement little brother dee jay an understated man of complex thought and action in town to support his older brother during times of emotional distress helping to buffer the reality of the lonely transition to living alone to living on my own how old am i how old doesn’t matter i’ll always be older he’s the little brother me the elder the responsible one carrying the burden carrying the name

continuing the line

love has been fertile the raising of chirrun nearly done the love of family strong painful joyful and vague the tears they flow beneath the sunburned cheeks the dreams heavy in the morning fears of the children’s well being never quite dissipating little brother dee jay he wraps me in his big old man arms squeezes me up against his big old belly he tells me he loves me

he come all the way from louisiana with a banjo on his knee headed to alabama his own true love to see he gives me a hug on thanksgiving day comes all that way to be  sitting in a skinny tube of aluminum after all it's just me and him it's just him and me we're orphans in an orphaned world

death becomes us

we whisper a prayer of thanksgiving amen we whisper a prayer for death amen we whisper a prayer for life amen

god is great god is good god is hate god is food god is your cunt wrapped round my cock god got lost on her way to tend the flock

one day god abandoned the south
set it afire
then settled down
we kneel in her house
call her a liar
without uttering a sound

we whisper a prayer

for south carolina

fuck yeah

nineteen and ninety one i ate turkey in south carolina whole mess of food whole mess of family me my daddy my little brother aunts uncles cousins legitimate and illegitimate not my momma though my momma she be long gone my momma she just ain't making an appearance this year my momma she done been dead for a whole year

it's not her fault at all

but i got nobody else to blame

fuck man

lemme tell you death it fucks a fella up sends a son spinning gives a guy a glimpse of the gods tiptoe to the top can't look into the face of the lord scratch out my eyes fill my ears with ashes let my blood flow circle the drain lemme tell you about death ain't nothing change a child like death can't leave a child alone with death lemme tell you about death

thanksgiving in the woods look death in the eye hold my hand give a prayer for jesus take care of what's yours but give yourself to me

best let me in best give yourself over to me death ain't kind death ain't blind if you don't let me in then i might as well walk might as well walk away you don't give yourself over by then it ain't never going to happen

death i know lemme tell you i know

death it fucks a fella up you ain't all in by the time death rolls around you ain't reaching out for a hand taking the hand offered by the time death dances through the door might as walk away ain't never going to happen

i'm dead fucking serious i ain't sticking around to see you be alone

fuck it's nineteen and ninety one

south carolina

sitting just sitting

red clay driveway hard and slippery lined by moss-covered bricks sprinkled with crisp and rotting leaves oak elm maple leads up to a rectangular outline of two by fours partly sunk into the ground sparsely filled with dulled and dirty gravel runs right up to and underneath the three wooden steps that serve as stoop propped up alongside the doublewide trailer sitting atop a cinder block foundation

a trail of a red and yellow plastic big wheel trike red and white fearless flyer wagon a cracked and peeling rainbow hula hoop two mismatched roller skates

oh baby i got a brand new pair of roller skates you got a brand new key why don't we get together and try them out to see slide my cinnamon stick into your tea ain't the world such a lovely place to be

a trail of treasure junk and living not quite so well winds its way round to a couple of old tires leaning against the makeshift sears and roebuck shed bought out of the catalogue back in nineteen and seventy three

got a few spots of rust got a couple of screws missing and one of the sliding aluminum doors is bent inward like maybe someone kicked it hell fire maybe somebody did

my cousin mark he’s been known to have a temper fuck it’s in the blood

me my cousin mark we’re sitting outside in lawn chairs beneath the canopy of a fat old slash pine probably sliced for turpentine fifty years ago still wears the scars

hell sweet chile don’t we all

we caress chilled goose neck buds snuggled up in insulated beer titties colored petty blue sporting logos of the local package store over a cartoonish drawing of some frightful plymouth superbird rearing up on its rear tires like tony the fucking tiger its front grill all teeth and saliva

i don’t know why the baptist mullahs aren’t up in arms this blasphemous representation of my jesus mohammed abraham from the seventies iconic spiritual leader who wrought thunder on the blacktop where are the riots in the street king richard thou art lord

sitting outside in lawn chairs wearing sunglasses cool blue yellow november sun hanging in the mid afternoon sky all around us trees naked of their leaves leaning over scraggly creatures of the forest come to life babes in toyland there is no escape from this world the only way out is in a pine box eaten by worms and weevils flesh to bowels and bowels to shit and shit to dust sitting outside in lawn chairs a mild mid afternoon drunk drifting in settling in

my cousin mark he says tipping beer to lips his fleshy adams apple jumping up and down beneath his grizzly adams beard cocksucker has pubic hairs from dick to chin and back again

oh my yes

my cousin mark he is the perfect son built a house nearby so he can visit his momma every day cooks for her comes over and takes out the trash builds her birdhouses feeds her dogs washes her windows repairs her deck shit like that he goes fishing hunting sailing with his old man my uncle stan

mark lo he is the perfect son takes care of his momma she has no wants in her southern simplicity mark lo he is the perfect dad  takes care of his kids they have no needs in their living in the middle of god knows where redneckia south carolina lily of the field lord of the flies go tell it on the mountain world my cousin mark he’s a fucking rock of gibraltar he’s big he’s gregarious he’s a gentle giant good old boy who hates niggers and ay-rabs and wetbacks but never met a man he didn’t like don’t matter what color he is

he respects the jewish race damn good fighters don’t you know but he don’t know what to make of ‘em don't want 'em around these part and catholics are just good christians gone astray they’ll be all right eventually

my cousin mark he takes care of his family takes care of his sister she lives in atlanta he goes down to atlanta every now and then for a visit we sit and visit there beneath the tree he drinks a little more we drink a little more we toss the empties over on a pile beneath the bow of the trailer we talk story mark he talks a good story

he say

he stands wanders over to a slash pine he unzips he lets loose a stream strong with life and vigor he looks back over his shoulder he say

he makes a little trip down to see janie she lives down atlanta way with her two kids her husband he used to be in ronnie reagan’s air force fighting communism tearing down those walls mister gorbachev he checked out he clocked out got himself a job in the private sector working on jet planes

something to take us away

we all need to be leaving on a jet plane we all need the doubt of when we’ll be back again don’t you know baby best be giving all you got because i ain't gonna be happy with the crumbs of love

i got a cake to make

janie’s husband he got himself laid off lost his job got himself all worked up lost burn in the belly got himself all wound up twisted into knots of grief and angst and despair and bitterness and blame and don't you know a few drops of whiskey was all it would take he’d get upset he’d take it out on others ain’t nothing new about this same old story different place different face different day

my cousin mark he makes a little trip down to atlanta departs spartanburg early one morning before the sun comes up drives on down to atlanta takes the loop on around to college park east point only about ninety minutes maybe a little more my cousin mark he knocks on janie’s door there’s a bell a buzzer he ain't studdin' no buzzer he knocks fist to wood the screen door slap slap slaps back at his world mark he opens the screen door knocks on the hollow pseudowood outside door thud thud pound lets the screen slam shut it screaming whining as the taut corroded spring claims its proper shape and form paint chip dust puffs and huffs janie’s man appears he's looking like some grainy black and white television picture dark attitude covered by the screen's fine mesh

he’s surly he says to mark pausing just long enough to bring in a little early sunrise noire taking a drag on his cigarette a baby crying in the background the smell of burnt coffee floating alongside his morning whiskey breath he says

yeah what do you want

mark doesn’t say anything mark smiles that big toothy cheshire grin mark shrugs them big old man shoulders mark swings his big sledge hammer fist through the rusty screen cracks janie’s man in the chin cold cocks him as if he were death himself janie's man ronnie reagan's dude he don’t say nothing else he falls back cousin mark he don't say nothing else he opens the door reaches down grabs janie's man by the collar with one hand drags him out on the front stoop down the cement steps holds him down slaps him a couple of times with an open palm

the humiliation so much worse than the pain

mark leans in like a lover his lips next to janie’s man’s ear his fist full of starched sea island cotton his breath harsh breathing harsh lovin’ he says soft and slow and sharp as the razor he'd rather be sliding across this unshaven throat he says in a voice  steady and calm all emotion lost to yesterday’s dream he says

i ain’t afraid to fucking kill you

he says lemme tell you

i know death and death it'll sure fuck a fella up i ain't afraid to fucking kill you

he says

ain’t nothing in my heart ain't nothing around my soul ain't no jesus preventin’ me from putting my hands around your dumbass cracker throat and squeezing the life out of you

be like putting down a bad dog i done it before ain’t much to it

he says lemme tell you

you touch my sister again i'll fuck you up i am death it'll fuck a fella up

mark he looks over at me beer to his lips looks at me out of the corner of his eyes holds my stare holds the bottle still one gulp two he tosses the bottle onto the pile never stops looking at me

i nod he nods we know

hell

once many years ago long before mark and me got birthed into this world before we went from dark to light back to dark way back when back in another time another place his momma mark’s momma my daddy's sister mark's momma she got married young and south georgia wild

she was hot sauce on a cracker

she drove her men to despair she drove men to fight she drove men to think about death to think about life everlasting to think about thanksgiving

one man though he snagged her they got married with no money with little hope with nothing but love in the south coastal marshland they struggled they fought one night her man he came back from a tear came back late in the wee morning hours came home after ripping one up he came back staggering he had drunk all their money she got angry he got angry

he cracked mark’s momma upside the head

mark’s momma she told my daddy my daddy he paid a visit to mark’s momma’s man my daddy he took out a pistol my daddy he pointed that pistol at mark’s momma’s man my daddy he put that pistol right up to mark's momma's man's head my daddy he told the cocksucker he was going to shoot him he was going to shoot him in the leg shoot him in the foot shoot him in the stomach shoot him the liver shoot him in the head make him hurt make him dead mark’s momma’s man he cried he whimpered

my daddy he kicked the sorry bastard out the house my daddy he told him to leave

mark’s momma’s man he left they never saw him again

love it can fuck a fella up

goddamn

every night i dream the soldier say

burn that flag before you drape it over my coffin

sitting on that little patio out there on the outskirts of spartanburg out toward mayo south carolina me and mark kicking back mark just sitting there half reclining big old paw of a hand holding his beer resting on the arm of the chair little blonde girl maybe she’s five maybe she's six she comes running up jumps into his lap laughing giggling he gives her a hug tickles her he’s the jolliest motherfucker you might ever see long flowing black hair big beard some reincarnated early seventies stud all he needed was a leather vest never woulda known never could tell this big old lovable mug of sweet vanilla pudding had only a couple of weeks ago whispered heinous threats to a fellow human being

ain’t shit funny that way

mark he talks about love he talks about life he talks about giving his momma god bless her blind self talks about giving his momma a twenty two rifle for her birthday the year before says his momma my aunt virginia she liked to sit out on her back deck with her rifle locked and loaded couldn’t see a goddamn thing cataracts and diabetes and old age taking away her eyesight slowly and cruelly she liked to sit out on her back deck out on her back deck shooting at noises in the woods noises that crept up to the edge of her yard noises that haunted her at night

baby it's best to learn to how to love your ghosts you can't outrun them you can't hide

mark he say yeah always have to call before i head over to momma’s house never know if she’s sitting out with that rifle sure makes me all happy though to hear her laughing to hear them little twenty two snap crackle and pops an occasional tweet gone screech as a bullet accidentally finds a warm feathery target

goddamn it don't take much to make an old blind lady happy

he say

the kids they know to stay away from the back woods behind the trailer me i'm learning to stay away from the back woods too i'm learning to love my ghosts i'm looking for the happy it don't take much i'm listening for her laughs listening for those little snaps those crackles those pops

sounds of life sounds of death

lemme tell you death it can fuck a fella up lemme tell you it don't take much to make a fella happy such a fine line don't you know

she ain't killed much we're thankful for that

thanksgiving in the woods look death in the eye hold my hand give a prayer for jesus take care of what's yours but give yourself to me

south carolina and all that

matty she say standing over the sink those pale palmed hands blending right up and into those blue black arms both plunging down into plunging in and out of grey soapy water she say a heavy sigh heaving from her big bosomed chest a blessed bounty that swallows the leather cross hanging dangling from a throat soft deep lyrical she say shaking her head slowly back and forth matty she say

mistah mike they done gone kilt martin

me i sit at the formica kitchen table a month into my ninth year getting ready to head on out to missus coates’ fourth grade class at halifax elementary school i sit on my knees on the chair the humidity of the season already floating up off the morning dew creeping in through the screen door my hairless pre-pubescent legs wet with smelly young boy sweat sticking to the padded vinyl

springtime hormones driving my little dick to a regular stiffness that both frightens and fascinates

what in the world am i ever going to do with this thing

the sports pages and comics spread out before me propped up on the wooden napkin holder my morning altar the phantom in purple tights and hood black leather panties black leather boots black leather mask he in all his homoerotic glory sits upon the great throne of his ancestors well within the skull cave his lair his refuge within the womb of deepest darkest africa native tribesmen in loin cloth feathery headdress earrings and spear they serve mister walker lo the ghost who walks they serve him as they have served his ancestors as they will serve his heirs he our mister walker he loves diana he mourns her presence she with her high powered career she who travels the globe he’s but a lowly crime fighter out to save the world and protect this small lost tribe of cannibals black men ignorant but deserving to be left alone by

the exploitative dominant white paradigm

thank god for the ghost who walks thank god for the righteous white man to keep the world in balance

i sit at the kitchen table a month into my ninth year eating breakfast using an unadorned stainless steel fork to mash a couple of heavily peppered fried eggs thick chewy chunks of crumbled bacon shredded american cheese food into my grits scooping shoveling hunks into my mouth thick yolky embryonic trails oozing down my chin leaving behind a dried yellow brick road of tales to be told tales to unfold

martin yeah they killed him that’s what the voice on the tee vee said last night

one and only youngest son the big aitch we’re driving to school in the morning big aitch sixteen sporting the scraggly whiskers and buff bod of a he-man hipster white boy bee baller

poetry and the round orange ball in the city

big aitch we’re driving to school baby boy is in high school we’re talking we’re talking final four we’re talking books i’m slinging my pseudo-intellectual morning daddy bullshit i’m saying he’ll dig the walker percy book i just gave him i’m saying yeah young dude he’s a kind of kurt vonnegut channeling catfish hushpuppies cole slaw jesus love and sugar shack insanity

we have gaps of silence father son the holy ghost

we got kay pea eff ay talking to us in high fidelity stereo ninety four point one on our eff em dial the pacifica radio dudes in all their amy goodman dressed in flowing garbs of radical social attitude they spread the gospel of martin on this day on this fortieth anniversary of the evening where a bullet burst through his skull spattering blood bile and brains on the balcony spattering shit spitting phlegm on history big aitch he says

how old were you when martin luther king died

how old is love

how is it when we talk about him it’s always all three names it’s always martin luther king

how old is love how much do i love this boy

i wonder i envy him his life he is so young and wise beautiful and rough streetwise and innocent perfect in his imperfections i say turning to take him all in as we glide through the early morning fog settling in and among the redwood cedar and eucalyptus jungle comprising the outer edges of golden gate park the windmill peeking up above the canopy to the left the viciousness of the pacific breaking with anger passion and foam to our right we ride the middle goddamn i could eat him up i love him so i say

nine

i was nine that april of nineteen sixty eight just turned nine and i gotta be honest i just gotta tell you the truth kind of hard to admit to the boy i want to be superman for him my baby boy i want to say i was the super liberal white man leading the crusade for civil rights signing up voters fighting against the klan fighting against the man

shit

truth be known his old man was nothing but a dumb cracker kid in missus coates fourth grade class i didn’t even know who the fuck martin luther king was

fuck

in halifax virginia piss ant little town down southside eight hundred people within the incorporated city limits missus coates a gnarly hulking country woman sparing no rod lending no patience wielding a yardstick like she was joan of fucking arc nearly every one of us been smacked with that stick at least once whacked quick and sharp

didn’t even know who the fuck martin luther king was fuck it

missus coates she never told us anything about martin luther king she taught us reading writing ‘rithmetic she taught us virginia history with a righteous reverence seven presidents hailed from virginia sir walter raleigh’s lost colony prospered then mysteriously perished along with little virginia dare then came jamestown founded in sixteen oh seven hard valiant times turkey tobacco and tomahawks teasing the nape of john smith her own ancestors those of missus coates her ancestors brutes and indentured servants like my own

in and out of the stocks

sixteen twenty two a red letter year they brought over the first slaves after that the world just got right

we didn’t have no black folks in our school none to speak of they had their own school inez williams she showed up in the middle of the fourth grade one day there she was like someone had brought her in for show and tell standing there in front of the class braces sparkly sixties framed glasses black braided pigtails and black shiny mary janes buckled around lacey white ankle socks

jefferey oaks he sat the across from me the next row over he whispers out the side of his mouth the side sliding my way he says she’s a goddamn nigger giggles snickers scatter settle about the class like sugar sprinkled on the winter morning’s cream of wheat

it’s all funny

matty she says mistah mike they done gone kilt martin inez she wasn’t at school that day the sports page it don’t say nothing bout martin luther king the comics page it don’t say nothing bout martin luther king

the television last night the night before it didn’t want to say nothing about martin it didn’t want to but when i was watching

bewitched

i did dig that show i did i did dig samantha she made darrin have a dream she was so sexy that way casting her spells with a wiggle of that pert little nose lo many the night many the shower with warm soapy hands all over my pre-pubescence all over my excitement she came to me she wiggled her nose she helped me through my times samantha she spun silhouettes in darrin’s heart he got greedy the world discovered sammie’s secret the army came and captured them they were in a jeep headed someplace where darrin he didn’t want to go then they went away the show

bewitched

it just went away poof that all too seemingly familiar voice it came through with breathless clarity that we interrupt this program with a special news bulletin

mistah mike they done kilt martin

me my momma my daddy my little brother poster children for the nuclear family my daddy scraping by me my brother we had no clue we was just little crackers with dirty bare feet and hee haw haircuts we all sat in the den in the back of the house sat around the television my momma and daddy on the couch me and my brother on the floor in front of the tee vee

those innocent nights when pajamas were still oh kay

i looked back at my momma who was looking at my daddy who was looking at my momma who was shaking her head my daddy he said well i guess it was gonna happen

my momma i saw my momma whisper a little prayer

and bewitched samantha stevens she split the scene amidst the scene never saw that episode again i always wondered i just never knew whatever happened never really watched the show after that she my faithful samantha she just up and left me abandoned me on that fateful night

martin who

stole away my woman with the wiggling nose

goddamn him and his kind inez she didn’t come to school that day missus coates she didn’t really mention nothing about martin nobody at school the next day said nothing about martin way down in southside virginia where we had our black folks under control where we had our boys and dey’s people safely tucked away on the other side of the tracks scattered along the dirt roads down around the edges of town down by the river below the dam

sixteen twenty two a red letter year they brought over the first slaves after that the world just got right

we aimed to keep it right

mistah mike they done kilt martin

and i couldn’t do anything about it we’re driving down the road me and one and only youngest son he says he asks how old were you when martin died i say buddy-roo i was nine i didn’t even know martin didn’t even know we had

issues

and by the time i figured it out by the time it became clear by the time i really understood i just knew there was nothing i could do about it there was just nothing to be done

i just waited i just bided my time twirled my fingers learned to suck on a busch beer studied the gate the walls around me smoked a little kind green bud tapped my fingers and when the door was sprung i was gone

abandoned that place like samantha stevens abandoned me

i tell one and only youngest son sometimes i just feel bad didn’t have the balls to do the right thing all i knowed all i felt was that i had to cut and run

threw my stone all smooth and shiny across the water across the muddy mississippi skipped right across the surface all the way to san francisco shit son i’m still running i just want to tell him i ain’t ever gonna abandon him though i tell him i’m done running soon

gonna grow me some balls big and round

it took me a while but old martin he finally let himself be known to me it’s a sad revelation sad at that just want to thank him though just want to say thanks martin i finally get it

mistah mike they done gone and kilt martin

finally i can cry and all that

i walk down klovenierburgwal

early evening life beginning energy building brick sidewalks offering a path to somewhere to just about anywhere i spit into my hand slap it follow the trail wind around the canal toward neumarket
 
glance into a window drapes only slightly drawn downstairs flat below the water line of the canal elegantly furnished euro modern clean lines feng shui’d accordingly beneath the ancient crown molding skillfully applied by craftsmen paid pennies by the burghers of old drapes only slightly drawn the amber glow of two sconces drifting down on two lovers on a divan he facing her she facing him leaning over toward him a hand on his thigh they’re both blond his slightly darker could have been the light

could have been my desire

girlfriend she says she wants a gay boyfriend that craves only her she’s greedy that way she thinks a faggot fucker will fuck her harder and more righteous just like she needs just like she craves she just don’t know she just don’t realize ain’t nobody no faggot no studly porn star no manly mandingo ain’t nobody gonna fuck her like i do gonna fuck her hard and righteous like i do

nobody

then it’s gone the window the sconces the lovers on the divan it’s gone a brief glance a moment on my walk one of a thousand images i’m processing walking along the canal it’s dark it’s chilly

the amber image warms

could have been an ad in elle or cosmo high gloss photo the copy reads the perfect friday night and the logo for chanel new york london paris

it’s so sexy

i might let her take advantage of my mind while i take advantage of myself later tonight

seven days

on the road seven more to go

start in san francisco it’s a beautiful morning it’s a clear day blue skies occasional fluffy white hanging around loving its temporal heavenly existence fly over snowy fields criss crossed by dark strips of crisp bacon burnt sienna veins spotted by splotches of leafless gray trees and scrubs

sunday it’s paris monday it’s the train to rennes meetings with french technocrats stacked high in hierarchical ooze decisions frustratingly crawling between levels a job is a job back on the train to london through the chunnel at fourteen thousand miles per hour we sit across from a rather large english woman and her three kids a bored young teen and two siblings under the age of seven the mum with nervous eyes brought on by exhaustion we hear their tale of woe they drove to disneyland on holiday their car broke down her husband remained behind to get it repaired her kids run wild up and down the train the teen sits up against the window ear buds separating her from the rest of us swine she stares out into the darkness the mirrored images of those whom she tries to escape from whom we’re all trying to escape

now i sit in the jolly joker in neumarket i’m waiting for a friend i sip coffee i smoke spliff puffs of rah love jah love hover float dissipate out the window on the other side two women wave large orange flags some sort of religious thing they white dutch a black man is talking to her rather animated maybe passionate one finger one hand pointed to the heavens the other holding a cross between thumb and forefinger a cross attached to a chain fastened around the neck she shakes her head he talks she shakes her head he touches her she backs away waving the big orange flag he walks away disappears from the window

american woman

sung reggae plays three kids sit at a table stoned and talking teenage boy stoner talk they’re english newly turned eighteen so they claim they don’t stay long the proprietor cards them shakes his head i guess they’re not eighteen an american sits at the old maple wood bar polished brass flashing in the light

in london we keep busy tee vee is serious business in this capital of the world beautiful long legged scandinavian women in short short skirts and cleavage begging for exploration walking among creatures assumedly women covered in black body bags yes that’s crude yes that’s a little culturally insensitive yes that’s a little redneck i call ‘em as i see ‘em what the fuck

i’d still slide my hand up that burqa kind of like trying to find the prize in the box of cracker jacks never know what you’re gonna find

i run through kensington gardens by prince albert sitting aloft his brass and marble realm his approving smile beaming down on us a child of ten his friends crowding around he dials the phone the store keeper answers the ten year old muffles a laugh he says he spits into the phone do you have prince albert in the can the shop keep gruffly says yes the child his friends laugh shout out loud well you better let him out i cross the street move through hyde park along the serpentine its waters stained green by generations of goose shit by the memorial to diana it pays to marry well the door out is a bitch around to speaker’s corner i fight the urge to replay my fifth grade recitation of the preamble to the constitution we the people do ordain and establish who da people we da people who da people we da people i would but i left my peach crate back stateside and on around down the carriage path back into the gardens where i ease up finish with a slow walk back to gloucester road joint lit lungs full

i have to lay off an employee

and english rules apply there is a checklist of what i’m supposed to say no more no less it’s scripted it’s impersonal technically she is redundant it’s cleaner that way no room for discussion no room for emotion at least on my side she is upset she sheds a tear she has words she wants me to hear sticks and stones ain’t shit words hurt it’s only words and words are all i have to take your heart away

seven days

in the jolly joker the american at the bar is loud yet jovial new yorkish but more upstate than city he’s smoking bud in a glass pipe blown long and dickish he explains the california marijuana business it’s an industry it’s a cash economy larger than most third world nations he explains this to an elderly dutch stoner he himself from the countryside he himself speaks disparagingly of the locals he left behind the farmers the religious the new yorker speaks of his own escape from blue collar mentality he is an old hippie gone business legit he lives with the pain i guess we all do i guess we’re all escaping from something grass is greener syndrome

love and rockets

my friend walks through the door we hug i haven’ seen him in nearly a year we talk and laugh and cry late into the night we hang in the joker and smoke joints we go next door to the pub and sip beers we rotate twice back and forth we talk of days behind us we talk of days before us we talk of love and women we talk of deeds done some remembered well some not so well some best forgotten before stumbling back to the leidensplein find frittes with mayo at two in the morning

i add a dollop of mustard

girlfriend tells me how much she misses me and i sleep until noon wake up to wind howling sunlight bright morning wood hard and stiff

a coffee a joint some dutch masters at the rijksmuseum the history through the eyes of artists the sixteenth century dutch ruled the business world they ran the slave trade they were cruel cut throat businessmen of yonder barbarians at the gate peter stuyvesant haggles with the manhattan injuns a little this a little that next thing you know there’s a starbucks on every corner i find the exit

art needs to come in small doses

i find my friend i hang with my friend and his kids in the park behind the van gogh they run and climb on the  iamsterdam sign my friend rides off on his bike two kids in the basket up front his oldest standing on the rear axle holding onto her dad they ride off into the gray horizon

me well another joint a coffee some food

two arab guys sitting at the table outdoors at the cafe sipping espresso one turns to the other says taking hand from pocket it is chilly making a gesture of curiosity he says in not broken yet modified english he says where is your brother the other tucked into his chair jacket zipped up to the chin hands dug deep into his pockets he says from behind black rimmed armani glasses and the shadow of the day’s beard he says

he is searching for a wife

the first nods the other nods they place a few coins in the basket with the check they leave a couple speaking italian take their place their lilting conversation melding with dutch german french all around smatterings of english everyone speaks english we are the adaptive chameleon bastards of the world

and the whole earth was of one language and of one speech and they came and they said go let us build us a city and they did and its name is called babel because the lord did there confound the language of all the earth and from thence did the lord scatter them abroad the face of all the earth

and i pay my check and i scatter among them glancing in windows

i glance i wonder out loud speaking in tongue one foot in front of the other

another day in amsterdam and all that

  

bert sits on the rock

he sits on a big rock set placed thrust within the depression slashed across the very bottom of the gorge nestled within the folds of the lower appalachia undulating cunts cut along among the earth’s crust marbelous dire outcroppings mud slide slim carved worn defined sliced diced by condescending yet sparkling veins of rivers ancient and sacred a crone well into her wisdom water of life aub zam zam the sweet tallulah bottled and tapped way up in north georgia

bert sits on the rock like fucken rodin

he we all of us way back in time nineteen seventy eight seventy nine way back in time it is afternoon it is end of day he sits on his ass the granite melding fusing fear becomes zen batteries drain trickle scoot back now shuffle back just a little ways shuffle back in time back in awe a little shock a little awe maybe five maybe six hours earlier

he we all of us we wake we bake we fall down frightened we tumble down somersaults of sin loop de loops of love we’re just trying to get right we’re just trying to make it right make it righteous lo we fall i fall girl i do fall i trip and fall i slip and trip with every passing day every passing hour with every passing breath
hard and steady

for god so loved the world he gave his only begotten son 

for i so loved the girl i waved my only forgotten gun

every passing breath hard and steady

ever lasting death for veronica and betty

goddamn gizzards with gravy great googly mooglies pogo pissed on all of us from the cross forgive them father they know not what they do they do not what they know

lo we have met the enemy and they is us

he we all of us we wake we bake we fall down frightened somersaults of sin loop de loops of love all along a mysterious mushroom trail boil bubble toil trouble spike with grape kool aid hold the nose through the lips and over the gums look out jesus here i cum we drink the horrid solution

swallow stomach surrender slip

down down down into the gorge follow the gurgling giggle the giggling gurgle of water laughing tripping singing over the rocks stumbling down deep as the sun also rises apollo lashing our backs with his capricious cat o’ nine tails multi colored perspiration floats off our tee shirts flies from our scraggly hair and beards evaporates into the morning air with polite bursts of peter max reality bites petite nova mortar rounds rocking our worlds spanking our monkeys tinkerbelling us ever deeper into our mother's cunt such sweet smells sending me sliding sideways her dewy desire darting dabbing at our hard breathing nostrils like tongue on clit

tiptoeing into the hidden abyss doing the uncertain questioning fred and ginger happy feet twinkling toes along the precipice of her lust we feel her shiver and shake tremble and quake knees shaky breasts naked grateful and grand she is a loving god she is a vicious lover with vicious flying crabs nipping at our exposed parts leaving marks for future lovers to see forewarnings fences declarations of territory we hop and slap from rock to rock no love is ever free no love is ever simply given away she makes us work

she says smiling she says well darlin’ just don't think about it that way why not go a day just don’t think about it grim grinchy grins and groans baby baby it weighs on my every breath

love it just fucks me up

i’m a pig on a spit slung over a low flame slowly turning slowly burning goddamn i burn for you

puff la

clouds clutter the sky

while a big rock sits in the middle of the river at the bottom of the gorge amidst the icy ooze sits tall a stubby granite obelisk a stony clit in the fold of the earth waters rushing around it rounded silver corvettes cutting contemptuously through the mist a stepping stone sidewalk leading to her gritty face yellow bricks leading to oz she squats sits before us towers over us a good twenty maybe thirty feet falling up to its flat top she whispers to us she says

touch me

gospels of our fathers doubting thomases we do our fingers find their way into the holes of her side we find the holes in her wrists our hands hide inside her crevices squeeze tight please might we pull ourselves up our flushed faces press tight against her own cool cheek i kiss her with lips wet and open the higher i climb the more i grind my hips into hers the tighter i hold on to her the more she trembles the more i tremble the tighter i hold on to her the harder i hug her the more i tremble the more she trembles until i reach the top fall over the ledge onto her smooth velvety hood

hugging her caressing her

goddamn goddamn gizzards with gravy great googlie mooglies

i stand stretch arms high and wide i touch the sky scream my devotion to her everlasting beauty wiggle my hips drop trou hang cock over the edge let fly with a massive psychotic piss grape kool aid spraying up and up and up and out of the canyon some lost urinary lasso swirling spiraling mobius stripping
look ma i can rope cattle with my dick and a couple of bud tall boys

yellow yelps from the others coming up below before me they mutter they moan their newly baptized heads poke up over the edge one at a time chrono keith then we hear grunts we hear kevin saying

put your hand there

put your foot there

bert's pale flushed sweating head pops up then an arm then a second desperate arm grasping at the flat surface pulling himself up and rolling over arms spread breath gasping he whimpers quietly dramatically kevin behind him pulling himself up shaking his head he's too nice a guy to say anything now he's tripping too much to remember twenty seconds later we wander around the top of the rock the big rock the obelisk with the flat top about the size of a couple of king size beds we look over the edge we spit we watch the spittle sail through and along with her breath until she drops them one at a time into the water silent plop plop plops

what a relief

we have our idiot moments we are only twenty years old we believe in life everlasting we wrestle on the edges we pretend to lose our balance and slip we pretend to push each other off we pretend to walk the tight rope in the circus we pretend to blindfold ourselves we really blindfold ourselves our antics come to a sudden stop kevin forgets to pretend he really does slip almost falls off anchors away up up and away hi ho silver to the batmobile robin all for one one for all chrono grabs his hand saves his stoned tripping dirty hippie ass self we all take a collective deep breath we laugh nervously we’re dosed twenty seconds later we forget we laugh out loud we wander about we look over the edge we spit we watch the spittle we wander about

we find our place in the world

we find our spots

we kick back we lounge ponder our navels we worship diana we close our eyes ra burns love onto our faces such exotic eyelid theater we so love each other we so love our cocks we so love our daily bowel movements we each sing our respective songs kevin sings willie nelson chrono sings the ramones their harmonies odd but sugary their songs swirling in colors supernatural psychofunkapussypurple blending with my own simple hallucinations pleasant comforting in that julie andrews dancing across the mountain meadow sort of way the hills are motherfucking alive baby

until they’re not

music dims goes gray silence

dark thoughts ooze from the cracks in the rock

satan stands before jesus in the desert dawn we are forty days in the hole forty nights to be told open sesame ali fucking baba infidels are we all a cloud shrouds apollo’s chariot cheroot chewing cherubs cart scrolled banners across the sky like biplanes beseeching us to drink diet pepsi on a gloomy afternoon at the county fair they scream for us to repent

the flood it comes

we can’t help ourselves this sadness admidst the happiness we just can’t get right with the world is a party the world rejoices whilst we weep i start a joke that starts the whole world crying i cry tears that start the whole world laughing lingers on the edge of our souls prickling pins and needles a hand a foot gone to sleep haven’t slept in days having stepped in places not known murky mad maudlin

bert groans chrono sings the ramones twenty twenty twenty four hours a day kevin loses his way does he know then that stella will break his heart does he know then that bert wants his parts does he cut and run because of the rock does she whisper wisdom across his cock

eenie meenie minie moe catch a nigger by the toe if he hollers let him go

the preacherman high up in his pulpit a worn bible held aloft above his head waved threateningly he says we are all doomed to hell the best we can do is lay prostrate on the ground eyes averted from his high holiness beg for his all powerful mercy beg for his everlasting forgiveness we bleed for our sins

darlin’ i bleed for you and i’m going to hell

the silly swirls of psilocybin sadness gnaw at my psyche baby it ain’t you it’s just me baby it ain’t blue it’s just misery in the ice cream churn on an early august sunday evening the hand crank jerky and grinding the old man pouring in ice sprinkling on salt rock and kosher uncle ben making fun of my clumsiness my aunt annette shushing him saying ben he be book smart he ain’t goin’ to have to work like you do

uncle ben he frowns aunt annette she crosses her thick popeye like arms across her ample breast satisfied of another battle won uncle ben he mutters i know uncle ben he’ll take it out on his own boys later i know i see belts swinging i see backhands flying worst of all i see words slicing souls

uncle ben he dies on his day bed his body twisted and writhing torn by arthritis his gizzard all swiss cheesy with ulcers oh those early cuthbert georgia evenings uncle ben sitting in the dark den the glow of the television lighting his pale face before the television in his rocker a tee vee tray before him a bowl of buttermilk with saltine crackers spoon to slurping lips spoon to slurping lips

silly swirls of sadness amidst the brilliance of the day we’re all up on the rock set placed thrust within the depression slashed across the very bottom of the gorge nestled within the folds of the lower appalachia undulating along among the earth’s crust marbelous dire outcroppings cut worn defined by condescending watery veins way up in north georgia surrounded by silly swirls of sadness admidst the brilliance of the day
god is great god is good let us thank her for this safe haven for our sadness where we can bring it down where we can let it slip away where we can let it slide away ra showers washes us scrubs us pink where we can simply sit still cleanse ourselves

the dark ooze it washes down the side of the rock into the water

i slowly stand stretch arms high and wide i touch the sky scream my devotion to her everlasting beauty wiggle my hips drop trou hang cock over the edge let fly with a massive psychotic piss grape kool aid spraying up and up and up and out of the canyon some lost urinary lasso swirling spiraling mobius stripping

i lower myself down off the rock squat at the river’s edge cup my hands dip them into the holy water splash chilly recognition acceptance renewed adulation

she kisses me with cold lips and warms my soul

chrono follows me down kevin follows him we look up

bert sits on the rock like fucken rodin

kevin he says putting a hand over his eyes to shield the sun he says loudly enough to be heard over the quiet roar of the stream he says hey man come on down

we gotta get back to this world

bert he looks over his chin in hand he says his head moves from side to side he says no

bert he stands up he raises his arm he says you know guys i just don’t know why i gotta come down off this rock i mean i’m way the fuck up here and you’re way the fuck down there don’t you know there are nooks and crannies for me to grab or worse not grab and fall and and if i fall it’s gonna hurt there might be blood those are rocks down there for crissake i’m thinking it ain’t so bad up here i could get used to it up here maybe you guys could bring me some water or something throw me up an apple or two this dark shit oozing from the rocks is kind of spooky but it ain’t so bad i think i’m good

bert sits on his rock like fucken rodin

i scramble up the rock sit down next to him i just sit there squeeze a look sideways kevin looks up at us chrono spits hands on hips he looks down chrono he ain’t got no time for no sissies fast forward chrono is forty he’s giving handjobs for heroin kevin disappears into texas then to los angeles we only hear we don’t really know kevin he looks up at us he says hey man come on down it ain’t so bad bert he says why there’s nothing down there for me i lean over i whisper dude it’s the shrooms don’t you worry none all this shit all this dark ooze it just goes away it just disappears he says eyes darting back and forth me to kevin to me to kevin he says yeah but

what if it doesn’t go back to normal

kevin he spreads his arms he says hey baby welcome to the new normal

we do this for hours until the sun is turning red over the edge of the canyon until finally bert he just shrugs he says oh kay

and he climbs down

bert he starts walking toward the path the trail walks up the path doesn’t say a thing he picks up the pace we hustle to keep up fast forward ninety eighties bert moves to san francisco we don’t really know one day i’m on the bus i think i see him i mention it to stella i say funniest thing i coulda sworn i saw bert on the street today funny huh two years later we get a call from bert’s little brother bert he’s dead died in key west there’s a memorial stone a stepping stone in the aids memorial park bert’s name is there

fuck

that dark ooze

it taints the soul man maybe i ducked a bullet don’t know how fuck that dark ooze chrono he gets arrested he goes to rehab he goes home to his parents house never hear from him cocksucker still owes me money never loan money to a junky kevin fuck stella breaks his heart he breaks in two crumbles moves to new orleans moves to texas moves to california gets lost in malibu wouldn’t be surprised if he’s into high colonics

every now and then i revisit that rock

i find my place in the world

i find my spot

i sing my song

that dark ooze

keeps me a little unbalanced

tallulah her waters they cleanse my heart and all that
 
 

an empty fountain lay in the middle of the plaza a lonely big cat bold beautiful in its mottled motionless material existence a big cat on its pedestal surrounded by a dry white moat a big cat reaches out stretches out in that classic tradition one threatening paw chipped claws and all presented a warning to all who dare approach fangs bared a concrete snarl frozen in time a captured angry soul surrounded by the gnarled skeletal semi corpses of a hundred knotted moss covered elm pared to the bone in the french style pollarded victims of the same sort who snip the tales from rotties and dobies yes the french style not kissing but stripped naked embarrassed and furious for their humiliation

they are the orcs attacking asalon

closer my god to thee

above

the blue futilely fights off the interloping clouds thick spongy foggy their hordes pouring in from the sea relentlessly

silently marching

onward christian soldiers marching as to war

we shoulda known right then and there

the blue ceding territory step by step inch by inch slowly they turn run regroup hold their own only to give it up tomorrow another day the battle continues moving down among amongst us mortals moving down across my cheeks my fingers gripping the pen the cool chilled darkness sucking away the warmth of the day the soothing glow of the moment

the wind tickles the pages of my moleskine

the growl of the big cat is drowned by the coarse intermittent hum of skateboards gathering speed then gaining air then a clatter of board on cement riding the edge then grind around the rim another clatter wheels on walkway occasioned by sudden outbursts fuck shit damns accompanied by the dull thud of flesh meat bone meeting concrete

voices dancing all about a languid jumble of french italian german spanish blending oozing taffy-pulled around through the trees by the breeze chopped into edible pieces by the sharp staccato of russian and various asian dialects

hummingbirds hover amid the low early blossoms while small songbirds finches wrens sparrows whatever assorted feathered tweets i don’t know lost my audobon guide in a prior life three kings lose to three aces in every generation tweets watusi beneath the bushes hidden from the lone hawk perched atop the balcony over the bandstand itself alone and hollow save for other scattered skateboarders hoodies up and over pants baggy and low skirting across the expanse of stairs steps ramps and granite encased flower beds

they take turns with the video camera capturing moments stealing souls all of them all of us part of this youtube society we care not for our own privacy we exhibit our nakedness before the world we crave to be known we crave notoriety we all want to break out from the crowd show that we no not only we but i am unique i am the only one who looks this way thinks this way feels this way i we confuse self awareness with some selfish egocentric conversation with myself ourselves our collective selves even our gods are of our own creation pieced together with yardsale bits of this parts of that built up to be some golden idol of love compassion and hideous vengeance only to be lassoed with a steel cable toppled over by uniformed lunatics with machine guns in a jeep

we honor this day by allowing the ruling classes to refuse to work those who can afford the poll tax may look upon the writings of george and abraham four score years ago on hollowed ground be courteous to all but intimate with few may commune with their fellow elite while requesting the service class properly and efficiently provide them with lattes and scones seen but not heard

give me your huddled masses

the rare american stops asks for a light hey why is the museum closed i look up his coiffed black hair longish and gelled combed back a la gordon gekko framed by the pale afternoon sun in his macys leather jacket he is the god of elvis the wrath of the suburbs of hayward and worse perhaps milpitas i accept the return of my lighter with a humble idolatrous mumble then speak up i say

it’s monday

he raises his satanic eyebrows amused then knowingly responds

oh yeah

then what else would you recommend i’m here with my lady friend delayed valentine’s don’t you know she is wearing first date heels spikes going all the way up beneath that short black mini i want to drop the lighter so i can get a look up instead i say i ask you willing to walk he shrugs he says sure we’re in the city we’re in the park we came to walk i smile i say i advise i opine my friend i say take her to the arboreteum take her to the japanese tea garden take her around behind the big leafed plants lift her skirt i guess i only think that last part part of the problem of being so goddamned self aware don’t really know where the thinking stops the speaking starts

i am jesus christ bow before me god of elvis rest your virginal offering at my feet

he says thanks i suggest he spend a lot of money give freely of his suburban alms he gives me a sideways glance that silent signal not to spoil his decreasing chances with his hot knock me down fuck me quick shoe wearing lady friend who lights her own cigarette with her own lighter extracted from a knock me down fuck me quick matching pocketbook who shakes her head in a getting ready to belittle her male in that traditional first date dancing mating ritual his signal stern and pleading but he laughs loudly false confidence covering his fear of being lost in the city without a plan without a destination

there are those here and hereabouts who would attempt to take what is rightfully his

and we the collective male brotherhood of the robert bly drop trou and drum circle will see to it that our distant cousin from the hinterlands shall return to his remote village across the bay woman over shoulder

it is our duty it is our obligation

it is presidents day but not once did the god of elvis and i discuss the nexus of our paths crossing the origins of the purpose of the day not once did we give pause not one silent moment of reflection to ponder the memory of leaders past and present those who dare mount the grand steed of this great land and raise the sword of destiny we did not discuss nor debate their contributions their honor their righteous and salacious paths to sainthood

where are our heroes

it is presidents day yet we have no president not one of whom to speak not one whom we admire not one whom we love

we are at war

love is not allowed shopping though is encouraged sex drugs rock and roll tolerated if we forget about everything else ultimate cage fighting beamed to the masses provides the people with modern day gladiators bloody out of body adrenaline in the quiet confinement of their isolated homes no need to congregate and cause trouble trade ideas
stay home and beat the wife

support the troops support my big swinging balls

onward christian soldiers marching on to war raise high the flag wave it proudly we shall bring the red calf to israel we shall overcome lord we shall overcome

the tourist he walks off with his stilettoed lady friend toward the japanese tea garden i close my moleskine stand up tuck it in my back pocket

with my pen have gun will travel

the walk home with the wind at my back memories behind me the setting sun ahead it’s a beautiful sight

closer my president to me

it’s his day after all and all that

 

once upon a time

way back when way back in the day way back in simpler times when black was white when up was down when lick was bite when smiles were frowns when green was blue when bobby met billie when drought was dew when putty was silly

when love was everywhere elsewhere tupperware sealed with a burp

down in that northern italian town in south georgia down around the withlacoochie river where it flows out of the big swamp where it winds round the bend takes in the little river black water flowing into black water both of them just sneaking through the countryside creeping in the dark between betwixt the pine trees the spanish bayonets the cypress knees the lady’s castanets the white sandy river banks the worn wooden planks pouring over prehistoric gar around cotton mouth serpents with fangs dripping past little gators with big teeth slipping

sneakin’ around just sneakin’ around

i got a bag i got a stick hunting pussy at seventeen eighteen just like hunting snipe everybody want some nobody know what it looks like everybody scared by the way it smell

she say

just put your head there put your lips there touch me like this swirl it that way twirl it that way yeah right there between the fold do you feel it can you find it do you feel it yeah baby that’s it right there

she twenty seven twenty eight she winks at me at work she’s head of cashiers at kay mart it’s her real job she moved back in with momma and daddy she’s got a kid she’s divorced in valdosta georgia almost storybook i’m pushing a cart down the aisle she winks from beneath dark bangs right out of fleetwood mac a couple of weeks later it’s the beginning of the summer she takes my cherry on the warm hood of my seventy one barracuda beneath a partial redneck moon

she say

unzipping my pants sliding in her hand that feeling goddamn that feeling that initial wispy womanly grasp of blind fingers on cock exploring slipping sneaking around in the dark ah goddamn that touch the back of the storeroom might as well be the depths of the forest everyone no one is around

she say

i want you to come by tonight after you get off work come around back to my bedroom window i’ll let you in i need you tonight just scratch on the screen

she turns the other way eyes askance walks away her boyfriend he comes sauntering up he looks at me punk teenaged long haired redneck hippie kid with bloodshot eyes and a marijuana leaf embroidered on my denim shirt unbuttoned and showing my taut tanned belly i ain’t nobody to him he runs his daddy’s liquor store up the road thirty years old wearing disco platforms polyester pants with the broad up the navel no belt bellbottom look printed silk shirt a fresco of a naked native woman parting the ferns in the jungle of his hairy chest

big fat sideburns and a saturday night fever with a south georgia twist haircut and he’s dumb as a doughnut hole

she smiles at him he drives a brand new trans am with the tee top and the firebird painted on the hood she winks at me i run off to price steak knives two for a dollar

me and stella 

yesterday we walk out of the building behind the lawyer the mediator he goes right we go left sneaking into the parking lot fitting that way we talk eyes moist wet trails on cheek we joke tears taste better with a sprinkling of giggle earlier she looks so good four stories up many stories since sitting across the broad scholarly mahogany table she’s taken to wearing sexier shirts oh my curves and cleavage a poke in the eye a hey lookie here what you ain’t got your lips on baby don’t you know i still love you don’t you know i still dig the wiggle in your walk i still crave that afternoon nipple nibble we stand we talk we don’t hold hands like we used to do i want to hold her but she doesn’t want me to i can tell she doesn’t want me to even though she wants me to we fill out some papers all our worldly possessions laid out before us there us naked betwixt the numbers and descriptors in spreadsheets so clean and latex we’re not angry we’re just sad amicably matter of fact the lawyer he goes on and on and on i think his dentures keep slipping a wet smacking of diphthongs he is the father of a friend he’s old older than dirt he speaks to us in fatherly tones almost rabbinical with tales and stories lessons learned paths fraught with the demons of uncertainty i’m full of regret i’m sorry that i couldn’t make it work i’m sorry that i had to burn down the house thinking to rid myself of the ghosts these ghosts that still haunt me these ghosts that sing i’m sorry that i couldn’t tell her my fears i’m sorry that i still don’t know them myself the sound of mice scurrying around the wooden floor in the dark on a cold lonely night there but never there we end with chit chat logistics basketball games rides to school she has an event to photograph i’m going to new york a kiss my lips to her forehead a lingering a softness i miss that smell we part she to her car me to mine she says walking away over her shoulder she smiles she says

i hope your dick rots off in new york

i grin goddamn i miss that i need more chili pepper in my diet i miss the whetting sound of blade on stone in the morning tense taut arousal from dreams unknown the screams emanating from tortured souls held within the dungeon of the heart

where is the haunting where are my shadows

put me on the rack lock me in the iron mask of your scorpion love you don’t scare me you only thrill me where is the fire where is your smoldering martha this george can’t get enough i’ve never walked away from a good fight

once upon a time

when love was everywhere elsewhere tupperware sealed with a burp

july slivery moon hang my pants on the hook the rustling of dried pine needles along the path around through her yard around back i hear the squeak of the swinging front storm door the saying of evening pleasantries boyfriend parents sweet jenni goodbye goodbye goodbye the roar of the trans am the short spin of gravel caused by heavy platform shoe  to gas pedal i wait i count down from five hundred by fives then lean up stretch up on my toes screen scratch yakkity yak

the eagles pour thick sappy syrupy from the opening window a cool sharp drift of conditioned air trickles down my shirt tingling my balls pavlovian they stir in anticipation hell they almost drool screen comes off i lift myself up ah the nimbleness of youth ah the adrenalin appeal of pussy

she checks the lock on the door dims the lights she’s stripped down to tee shirt panties and toe nail polish i grab her from behind she lets me she tops me from the bottom teaches me the art i squeeze gobs of paint from aluminum tubes of burnt umber canary yellow british racing green mix ‘em all up on her flat tummy palette sneaking sally through the alley with my camel hair brush

she says

grab me here grasp me there pull on me like this push me like that

she the first woman who ever kneels before my cock i don’t know where to put my hands i caress her hair she reaches up wraps it twists it around my fingers pulls them pushes them her hand on my ass pulling it toward her i get a rhythm she gets a rhythm i sing she hums

she lay on the floor pulling me atop her legs spread guiding me in for a hard bumpy landing we bounce to tijuana she talking me through talking me down over and over and over until the sun peeks between the pines the crickets and frogs have long gone quiet fog seems to seep up from the steaming ground of morning i can almost hear the sizzling hiss of straw drying in the dew though we are spent my eighteen year old cock wants more she begs me no i persist until she gives one last sigh rolls over onto her knees looks over her shoulder waiting anticipating i bugger her in the red dawn until she cries

uncle

and i leave as i came through the window a ghost of the evening fuck sneaking back up the street to my car the same white barracuda upon which she stole my virginity snatched it from my pants drank it like a pabst on a sunday after church i crawl through the window slouch up the street hands in my pockets

looking left looking right looking righteous

i am your first fuck i am your last fuck i am your righteous fuck

i’m walking back up the street to my car just one street of many streets down in that northern italian town in south georgia down around the withlacoochie river where it flows out of the big swamp where it winds round the bend takes in the little river black water flowing into black water both of them just sneaking through the countryside creeping in the dark between betwixt the pine trees the spanish bayonets the cypress knees the lady’s castanets the white sandy river banks the worn wooden planks pouring over prehistoric gar around cotton mouth serpents with fangs dripping past little gators with big teeth slipping

sneakin’ around just sneakin’ around

back in oakland in the early morning up in the hills she say a honk of the horn the crunch of gravel out front a car pulls up she say hey wait here until i go until i’m gone girlfriend she say wait here don’t let her see you girlfriend she still ain’t comfortable with it all she still can’t figure it out she can’t lift the window to let me in she ain’t got no balls in the sac she don’t know how to use a blade or bat look me in the eye wink slip me the stiletto she’s afraid of me she tell me to let go give it to her in the dark that reckless abandon grab her fuck her with all the emotion all the feeling don’t hold back don’t hold back don’t hold back when it’s light out she can’t won’t go toe to toe

fear of heights out on that limb

come on baby i’m scratching at your screen it hurts my motor to go so slow

lawyers make me laugh they be so stern so serious so socratic i’m bitter i’m hurt i’m sitting in my cold apartment fondling the facts and figures that are my life dancing in front of me within the cells of a sterile spreadsheet i’m all by myself girlfriend she has her foot on the other side tonight can’t make it to my side that’s just the way it is that’s the way we are sometimes i’m just alone it’s a long courtship now right now i’m all alone just me and my big tee vee and my several bags of dope a different waft for whatever ails me

i smoke a cigarette on the redneck veranda overlooking the pacific ocean nothing pacifies i hate being alone

two nights earlier we’re in oakland we’re running through the rain from door to door we’re frisked three times they throw away my tangerines she complains she moans i’m there for her music is her thing the show is her thing

hey she says i really need to see a show

me hell fuck i hate crowds i don’t stand in lines i won’t run in charity races with a bunch of do gooder jocks i won’t swim with the hordes from alcatraz i won’t see a movie unless the crowds have died down to three or four

hey she says i really need to see a show

the foo fighters they wail they rock they scream girlfriend she moves oh she grooves she bounces all over her breasts bounce she pulls me close in the dark takes my hands slides them down the front of her pants she turns she kisses me long and deep we’re anonymous in the crowd i’m in the crowd for her

she so sexy she so pretty it makes me so happy to see her happy jumping up and down pogo popping jumping jacqueline flash she bounces oh baby bounces blonde hair flying she so happy makes me happy to see her happy

the lights spin the music splashes all about paint balloons of love and rockets splattering phat rain drops of sound soaking the crowd a maverick curl of rock and roll swallowing us whole for just a moment for just a bit of speckled time we forget where we are who we are

somehow the limb seems strong and sturdy

until i’m out there on that roof with nothing but a cigarette a spreadsheet and the ocean wind blowing me to kingdom come blowing me around like cat hair near the heat vent up and down and around and around

patience is not my thing patience is a virtue i’m not a virtuous man moderation is murder it’s all or nothing i’m giving it my all it ain’t a hurdle it’s just a step come on baby come on darlin’ step with me hold my hand step with me come on baby i’m scratchin’ on your screen you got me outside with nothing but a cigarette a spreadsheet and the ocean wind

blowing me to kingdom come

when love was everywhere elsewhere tupperware sealed with a burp hey she says i really need to see a show the lawyer he goes on and on and on i think i hear his dentures slipping that smack smack smack of wisdom

screen scratchin’ sneakin’ around and all that

the flight attendant the cute stewardess the hot waitress in her pleated united skirt with the dark stockings sweet opaque nylons with a punkish run up the calf sliding open all the way to behind the knee she sits in the jump seat facing me i’m sitting in the front of biz class my eyes beg her to uncross her legs part them just a bit

come on sugar give me a little bit it’s been a long time on the road seventy two hours in hong kong bookended by a couple of fourteen hour flights no time for a quick debauched jaunt to macau barely enough time to defile girlfriend before i’m back in this tube of toothpaste with wings headed to new york new york

hot waitress is more school marm than faithful purveyor of sizzling fried delicacies at hooters i dig that her glasses slim and hip her butt curvy and pulling me as i imagine her pale parts my morning eyelid theater displaying brightly lit yellow neon ex ex ex booths available couple welcome i momentarily regret my promise to save my mile high virginity for girlfriend

a million miles with united i still got my airplane cherry goddamn

girlfriend she shakes her head