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