oh lawdy lawdy don’t you know i woke with wood this morning of mornings about like a reverse wake and bake with a full twist we look over to the judges strips of sunlight streaming in through the high window yellowing the curtains sparking memories i don’t have but relish keeping the photo that comes with the wallet i don’t dream i dreamt all night sheets stained sultry sliding ain’t no princess ain’t no pea baby i fucked you all morning long i fucked you all night long such sweet dreams fuzzy with an edge c’mon tip toe along the edge dip in a toe why not why don’t you so what if you fall in i mean fuck me i just dig getting wet nim to chin the schlurp schlurp of digits and parts in and out of the loam did i drive yeah i did drive the long drive last night one oh one such surreal signatures of light moisture sugary essence of whoa yikes swirling round behind my eyeballs rolling up inside my head eyelid theater guiding me between betwixt the white reflectors

four rules to live by what more do you need do you knead don’t lie to me i know you’re ticklish

just got to open yourself to it n’est-ce pas

before just before step back time shift just a bit blindfold me spin me around pin the tail on the donkey kong of love lust lingering oh baby i do liberally linger walked up through the parking lot lost again spun around duck duck goose girlfriend i know it’s here somewhere search my pockets pat me down strip search myself i just saw didn’t i just see my car tucked over beneath the trees suburban manufacture of surrender yes sugar i do surrender every fucking day of my life surrender is that first final step to being open to it all don’t you know semi porous selective surrendering only works for so long eventually we just need to just give it up admit it stand in the middle of the street mist beneath the burn of the gaslights baby don’t you go gaslighting me dancing dancing dancing arms wide open breathe cocksucker breathe down on my knees before the goddess herself rather beg forgiveness than ask permission my daddy he say don’t make me pull over make you cut me a switch make you do the chicken dance on the side of the road

the asphalt so hard on the knees i could fuck you standing up

the car appears with dull toyota certainty reliability so comforting almost like a rut maybe need to shake it up change so curious change for the sake of change the comedian he says i’m so broke i can’t afford to change my mind can’t afford to pay attention the man on the street he says hey brotha can you spare a dime the devil on my shoulder says short skirts so suggestive the angel on the other whispers curiosity killed the cat goddamn lucky i still got a few lives left reached into my pocket did the beep beep with the remote climbed atop my trusty steed took a breath breathe cocksucker breathe jiggle the key jiggle my complacency spin the dial land on the black keys such music to drive by such music to fuck by such music for a drive by fucking have love will travel i’m gonna find that girl that satisfies that girl she leave me smiling in the dark corner of the parking lot head back on the seat a cinematic reflection retrospective of the evening

scribble scribble

dot dot dot dash dash dash just breathe cocksucker just breathe reach down into the sidepocket of satisfaction find that just in case journey joint i ain’t easily smitten being the cynical motherfucker i mean i mean i fall in love seventeen times a day just walking down the street suffering serious salacious cases of whiplash my oh my how i find redemption in the human form how i find when i find where i find do i find you do the drops dew the drops of dew sprinkles of love on the muff a tuft a patch a heartfelt design

glisten a word so seldom used

a rather soft sparkling don’t you know

the pink peeks proudly from within the white let me let me let me yeah baby just suffer this fool i will preach from up on high from the bemah from the pulpit from the speaker’s gate from my soapbox i will deliver you my sermon on the mount let me mount you with pleasure and pain be my magic carpet come let me ride the clouds touch the sky

the chef suggests a hearty red with those chops

little miss muffet let me feast on your tuffet let me scream your name muffled murmurings seventeen times a day i carry my prayer rug in my back pocket allah gotta do is smile and wonder can’t chase it can’t be running around with a net badminton such a faggot game can’t help but love those crisp white clothes can i join in can i play if i can’t play i’m taking my birdie flipping them off can’t chase it gotta just sit down on the soft green grass maybe just maybe perhaps she’ll alight on my shoulder whisper in my ear

just walking down the street california dreaming click click flick the bic kind green bud slides oh so smoothly smoking less enjoying it more gimme menthol it’s a kool jazz newport a safe haven of white flight white robes white light just follow the light almost medicinal sugary sendoff shoreline to one oh one acceleration is such a rush gimme shelter gimme love gimme peace on earth gimme fire and rain and brimstone gimme comdemnation smote my motherfucking soul to hell in a handbasket spin me round click my heels three times there’s no place like home home is where the heart is the heart is a lonely hunter the hunter becomes the hunted a bow an arrow a cowboy an injun hi ho silver up up and away here i come to save the day mighty mouse is on the way smarter than the average bear gladly repay you on tuesday for a dip of the finger today it’s magically delicious trix are for kids say the darndest things

baby i kid myself every day

sloshing through with galoshes stand tall almost six feet getting shorter every day life goddamn it do wear me out one oh one black strip o light so many lights aglow might have to stop buy me a mercedes bathed in a flood of fluorescence oh lord won’t you buy me a mercedes benz don’t you know i need to impress my friends won’t you buy me a color tee vee dialing for dollars is looking for me gonna stop can’t stop malibu raceway baby you can drive my car you can glance from afar fuck it’s only television ain’t like i’m curing cancer girlfriend

big bottle of codeine

san carlos belmont burlingame milbrae san bruno oh so mayberry berry pie berry cobbler oh mother may i sitting there cooling in the window berry juice seeping through the crusty flakes of catholicism catechisms of want desire delicious digging of the thumb pulling out a plumb oh what a fine fuck am i mother may i baby you may you may you sit upon my lap talk about the first thing that pops up goddamn i do pop hop on pop pogo to the hokey pokey i put my right foot in shake it all around acceleration is such a rush up past the aeroport take off landing ain’t got no time for delay traffic control can kiss my lily white ass leaving on a jet plane don’t know when i’ll be back again the lord giveth the lord taketh away jesus on a stick mary all rolled up the kind green bud sizzles the red fire bud glows i glow i bask in hillbilly art i drink redneck rhythms like coffee in the morning i slurp i gulp i am a gourmand for your grits sprinkle on that black pepper heavy and thick make me sneeze

tickle me make me giggle

whip around candlestick all dark and ominous out there on the edge of the water on the edge of knowledge aren’t we all just looking for just that bit of knowledge the bite of the apple that will remind us of our humanity pointed reminders of our loins burning burning burning girl i burn with a fire so intense all consuming exhaustion ain’t a word it’s a state a city state approaching san francisco around hospital curve the sign says golden gate bridge the signs all point to the obvious

i don’t even have to wonder about how you taste i just know

c’mon lemme check the lipstick on the dipstick lemme forage for forbidden fruit grapenuts remind me of the taste of wild hickory nuts love reminds me of the taste of wild cunt cave man drag her by the hair take what he she wants needs refrigerator broke might not keep til tomorrow best take it all now up and down fell street out along he panhandle it’s a warm cool eve even in the city the hippies and wannabes stoop sitting smoking cigarettes sipping silly drinks in tumblers sophisticates shaking it up keeping it real art for art’s sake let’s talk story two hundred fifty words or less ready set go through the lips over the tongue better get ready for here i come on through the park the redwoods the museum towering over us in their cartoonish horror we all have demons they curse us mock us humiliate us daily exorcism an exercise in futility love it’s more than a springtime ritual

if i don’t get laid three times a day i can be a real bitch the angst of abstinence flings caution to the wind find me a melon patch on a warm summer night in south georgia she sits on the back of my dirt bike stolen produce between her legs we’re flying on teenage anticipation hey diddle diddle fuck the cat fuck the fiddle slide to a stop beneath the moon an intersection of nowhere and anywhere it don’t matter hold the melon high above my head she touching my chest with fingers so light aphrodite blushes lips brush my nipples tongue darting tasting of weed and beer and a nibble of quaalude and grins and giggles the warmth of innocent wonder spreads like a hunger we are hungry the watermelon tossed high into the air landing on the tar and gravel with a splat its juicy meat glowing red within the rind we eat it with fingers and lips its liquor dripping running flowing down our chins we are drunk with a yearning so powerful we smash ripe melonic pulp on cloth and skin sticky sticky we wallow we do

we slow dance beneath the gaze of three crows an owl and a shadow of doubt  

the music matches the mood the plate runs off with the spoon nineteen seventy six love and rockets time magazine talks of missiles and the kremlin and all i want to do is ingest enough drugs to witness the father the son the holy ghost maha guru vasu jesus christ superstar in his flowing ethereal robes garden of gethsemane gives me a hardon a hard rain acid rain acid test electric kool aid magic mushrooms passionate purple pickings buckets and buckets of pain boxes of rain cocksucker high up on the cross what’s a few pricks among friends a crown of thorns

if i place the cross between your breasts will your friends scream for bar-abbus as i crucify your heart

we slow dance beneath the gaze of three crows an owl and a shadow of doubt

i dream of her every night i can’t see her face so long ago i still feel her i still fall for her i still feel the curves of her teenage waist her teenage tits her long silky straight seventies hair summer love redneck love dirt track love watermelon love drive me girl let me drive you i don’t dream i dream of you

driving home through the park the rose garden a jungle of love and rockets slide like mario andretti into a parking place on funston click beep and into bed

parking lots and journey joints and all that

i see her a lot sometimes i see her sometimes a lot

drives me silly sends me stupid just kind of snowballs round and round bouncing down that big old mountain hop skip jumping skip to my lou twisting my tongue twirling my temperament  always getting me into trouble saying this saying that hey you know don’t you know it just pops outa my head like some pinball

rubber baby buggy bumpers

the love it’s mainlined i’m addicted i get the cold sweats i find myself swinging on a cold harsh rope of burning desire hanging swinging hanging she takes my breath away got me in a choke hold hanging swinging from the trees hanging out on clement street running errands bank radio shack green apple bookstore next to the seven eleven browse the cutout bin i aspire to one day perhaps to have a couple of self published pamphlets stapled together pages maybe a bit dogeared sitting in the cutout bin alongside mister stephen king and the chick who writes those mysteries mary something i think but fuck hey i found a walker percy book buck ninety nine hadn’t read any walker percy in years like a decade more

i went through a walker percy phase

i’ve had a lot of phases what the fuck i mean hey haven’t you fuck i’m in one right now can’t really get my arms around it but you can be goddamn sure that i’m in one won’t really know til i get into the next one hey ain’t that just fucking deep maybe have to be like two or three phases beyond pause for lagging data points get a bit of perspective let history relax its balls a bit she called me trendy i prefer to think of myself as simply stumbling into it

serendipity threw a collar around my neck long ago drags me fucking everywhere

hanging out on clement street i dig clement street early september early evening fog comes rolling through living breathing patches of cool vaporous tumbleweed whirling swirling dancing prancing wafting cotton balls of fluffy ventilated jism the air has just that bit of chill the kind of chill where i like to drop trou have a brisk breeze on my bare ass as i take her from behind she leaning on a large eucalyptus sapling grunting like i’m barnyard bobby cum dripping down her leg such a natural act the dry eucalyptus leaves shaking like tribal percussion goddamn i go in buy a couple three books tee cee boyle martin amis jim thompson pretentious name dropping becomes second nature

i went through my german writer phase i went through my eastern european writer phase i never really had a south american phase i mean i dabble with marquez but fuck he’s faulkner with a sombrero i never left my southern writer phase i mean let’s admit it no body bleeds like a southern scribe once you been cut can’t leave know what i mean

i went through a martini phase that one hurt me

i went through a grateful dead phase i still fall back in it sometimes feels kind of warm and nostalgic dunno why never was a deadhead just liked the vibe i went through a libertarian phase more of a stay the fuck out of my life than it was a political statement more of a ken kesey style just get fucked up pretend world ain’t quite so fucked up kind of approach funny how it kind of spun through during my grateful dead phase along with my wanna be a hipster phase who am i kidding i always wanted to be a hipster just never could pull it off

cool is just so beyond my reach

but she calls me trendy

i went through a wiccan phase that one amuses me joined a coven sat naked in a circle beneath the full moon in the northern virginia woods invoked pan aphrodite yeah that one amuses me in that whoa dude maybe lay off the bud

i went through phases of indiscretion most not honest that one fuck those ones they left scars i mean i had my reasons still trying to figure them out shit some of them were pretty hot goddamn i remember this cute little vietnamese chick in texas fuck me remind me to tell you that one some day but goddamn they cost me i paid for them they hurt still do

lack of truth the soul decays slowly painfully slow

i always thought i meant well no malice aforethought well most of the times i mean even the angry parts i regretted i’m a sap that way maybe i just love that old fashioned guilty feeling hooked on a feeling baby be better off if it was crack cocaine don’t you know

right now i be in a love phase

fuck that feels good

bought me some books walked out with amis boyle thompson used paperbacks i’m cheap that way bought me a green tea soy milk mango bubble tea and some sour gummi worms at this place that says it’s the original bubble tea vendor on clement street got itself a big sign saying so must be true gave my man pete a call ring a ding ding trying to line up swimming schedule me and my man pete we got a thing going on he’s sexy that way in his banana sling speedo we set a time i tell him there’s going to be traffic I tell him to get himself a fucking cell phone so he can call me if he’s late he declines he’s such a fucking luddite he says my man pete says into a phone he’s probably had since nineteen seventy nine probably still has a rotary dial not one of those retro bought in some trendy cutesy art deco store with a nice little side business in hello kitty no not my man pete the proletariat no my man pete’s rotary phone exists because it has always existed and will continue to exist into infinity that’s just the way it is with my man pete who says into his landline phone he says

fuck dude i’m still trying to figure out this new ear hair trimmer

can’t deal with the cell phone thing can’t go there hey i gotta give him his due my man pete he’s got a schedule he’s got priorities gotta give him his due my man pete yeah i bought myself some books bought me a bubble tea walked on up funston through the little wooded path thought about dropping tapioca balls mark my trail felt all hansel and gretel oh my gretel my sweet tea german girl let me slip my hands up your dirndl let me take that edelweiss pewter necklace twist it round your throat gasp baby gasp for me desperate so we’re equal walked on up funston through the little wooded path

hooked up with one and only favorite oldest son

wandered on down through the park redwoods moaning ancient earthy grunts of love and longing lessons learned written in their billion green needle marks all the way up their arm in arm with god the son the holy ghost goddamn such a lovely day down the path up to the cross on the hill down the twisty path drop on down to marx meadow me the boy who is a man his friend we unpack platters of plastic from our canvas bags eighteen holes of glorious golf meanders through the trees up and down the hills wire baskets shishkabobbed atop metal poles draped with chain links placed hidden situated between betwixt amongst the trees clanking metalliferous demons who speak only when struck wind blown metallophones singing singing singing

we stand upon cement platforms whipping discs down wooded alleys around the redwoods eucalyptuses california pines over patches of blackberry bushes and poison ivy begging the demons to accept our offerings

sometimes they do sometimes they don’t

she love me she loves me not

one and only favorite older son competes with the old man it is his birthright to dethrone me to take his proper place it is the way of the tribe we toss we grunt we sit on stumps at the sixth hole awaiting a group of three very butch but very cute how is that possible such a paradox one might say not at all if they would only have me i would have them one at a time or all at once i’m not picky but i’m very greedy very butch but very cute women to play on ah the blonde she is long and tall she so can pull a waft while we wait we waft our own one and only favorite older son pulls a jay bone from behind his ear says flick click clicking his bic with a puff-la puff-ca he says

poppa your one and only favorite oldest son can roll a fine joint a might fine joint

i had to agree

we play the full eighteen we lose no discs in the brush we consider that a small victory in its own right we decide to go celebrate pile into the car destination lilly’s barbecue on divisadero call up one and only favorite youngest son pick him up on the way sixty dollars and thirty minutes later a couple racks of ribs some brisket some hot links some potato salad some cole slaw some mac and cheese some banana pudding some bean pie couple of root beers apiece all down the gullet

we sit back we burp

in four part harmony we are happy we are sated we have life we have love we want for nothing except a pillow a couch and bad television

green apple sunday and all that