i’m noticing a surplus of magnum sized condoms and
a scarcity of candy at the gas station.
a couple days ago two poor sons of bitches got shot
across the street from this coffee shop i go to.
unrelated, but not –
the nice young lady @ the coffee shop was slamming shit around
with the kind candor that makes everything softer.
she’s a winner.
the day before that i was overcome with a very strong wave
of hatred for a parking attendant who didn’t give a shit
about my state of things.
why should he.
the
usual suspects i look forward to seeing throughout the
day; who i rely on to keep the dream alive have all gone
on vacation or something.
their boss is covering for them.
February 2009. Los Angeles, California. Seven p.m.
The slice of pie on this edge of the shelf is having
a rough go of it.
folks who have a head aren’t using it and folks who have
a heart are going ape shit for whatever the fuck is most
important.
i want to learn how to distill spirits. in the garage. i want
to invite anybody with a need to come over, cook some food,
fuck, get drunk, make moccasins, make love, laugh enough
to break the rap, beat the shit out of each other, whisper
and lick the rough edges off of each others’ chompers
to celebrate these days for what they are:
fertile and over-fucked with promise.
dear julian,
i want to shell out five bucks for thirty days for you but
didn’t.
dead julian,
who i do not know but feel like a cock sucker for not pulling
over to let the kids get my wheels all nice and squeaky for
your going away party, i’m sorry but i was furious that the
two bucks i paid at lucy’s to get a card to make the washing
machines work came with no balance on it.
so
while you rot my ass smells like providence.
it’s not a good excuse, but i’m holding a book of matches in
my pocket for you julian. i make no promises julian. i have my
own needs, julian. and i’m not going to be so big a prick to say
that you don’t know what’s happening right now –
that you’re fodder
for the thoughts
for the songs
for the best parts
within my
reach –
and its taken me a second to see how this fits into the inventory.
not unlike
the nice lady slamming shit around or all the thwarted Trojans who shrugged their shoulders then went back home to fuck like something.
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