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Rated: · Other · Other · #1334007
My poetry book "Words and Spaces in Between" can be purchased here: MySpace.com/JakobAdler
Fuzzy Frame of Mind

Stifled and smooth. She peruses the outside patrons asking kindly, "can you help me get something to eat?". An old, ranting, blue-denim clad man chews her out... Unfounded, belligerent. His bandana reeks of Coors and days spent chastising the youth on street corners.. I'm killing time, walking around w/ a fuzzy frame of mind. Skewed perspective, Moose Drool pulled leisurely for me. 2 bucks only... Couldn't find the book-store, gift-card lying dormant for now. There goes my shopping "experience"... My affluence and gibberish. Was THIS close to a new pair of pants.. They only last 2 years or so.. Go through the throes of overpriced discontent.. Relent & repeat, assume the tantalizing invigorating dance of the serpent.. Smoke cloud and dried up fountains line the walkway in the city-buzz ant farm.. So much bitterness and judgments made.. Formulated on pre-existing days.. yelling, screaming, "you touched me" on the bus @ 2:23am... like little kids struggling for attention. How lonely he is... "you got your pussy, eh eh" he remarks to the man and his girlfriend... He's jealous really. Sullen, lonely, miserable. He can't be the fantasy of millions. The attention falls on celebrities famous for appearances, good looks, doing nothing important but being born with privileged DNA. Here we are, April 30th, two-thousand and seven. I'm me. You're you. We were born and now living. Seeing, saying, reaching, working... the Sun goes up, then goes down... Illusions and malfunctions. Can't predict an earthquake. One shake's all it takes to turn my leisurely self into a state of shock and denial. I'm fed up. Accepting of the smog, and moving buses, dogs and more, washed up on this shore. Sitting between Ankeny's & Ash St. Promises heard; future's foretold. Buses ridden, products sold.. getting old one day @ a time.. Elusive pay-offs, clubs and looks, entang-ling books, dirty manners & cross-haired glamour.. Green overlooking overhang, business on the fray... blabbing crazy old man. At what year did he start his "in my day", let me tell you a thing or two or 12 speeches? I'm not in the mood for his shit or unfounded words.. I've tried and will keep trying, but all the while keep my eye in front and one in back, staying perplexed and confident. Weary of an attack. By knife, by fist, you get the gist. Furious of human-obsessed phases. Collateral approach, motor-bike roach. Fallen down by the crown of the privileged. Accepting of manhood. Going to fight, trained with the elite, but sure of discreet honor and vibes... Cover of papers, who gives a shit. Pints gone down. The wave of sound. Clicking, scheming, and disturbing the peace. I've chosen this Metropolis despite the shit. Despite the impact of wandering. Guys and girls paid, sometimes to collect a coin. Sell a toy, always imprisoned, if that's how you wanna feel. This IS real. Not phony. You got your view of life. Kindred and sneakers. Cloudy waters. Sordid nights. Procrastinating under the bleachers.. Cunts and morons, the day gets bleaker. Oh man!!! That old man wandering around just said, "Can I buy you another beer and come talk to you... I smoked my first joint with Jimi Hendrix".. Then, as I'm writing this, he burps and states, "Sorry, I'm just trying to get rid of this gas" hehehe. Sun's not down yet @ NW 8th. I'm killing time next to a dirty trash can and wandering pedestrians.. Grey gloomy sky, brick, and glass-windowed medium-high rises. The stench of lager and half-eaten gyros looms from the receptacle. If anyone approaches and asks, I'll reply I'm a covert writer. Can't disclose my employer. Despite my torn granny sweater and faded corduroy pants. I'm a JOURNALIST. Whisking away. Downtrodden as it seems. But *wink*wink* employed. A man searches with his can and obscenely sky-blue water-resistant button coat, through the trash. Maybe hoping for recycling. A strange Asian girl with lavender boots. Stooped with pink & blue & purple strangely. Skims by with her peculiar gait. Fascination with something in her hands.. Probably a cell phone. It's no wonder the homeless search through trashcans. Maybe a barely worn beanie... What with the scolding I just witnessed. "I'm un-employed" I say. while my jingling pockets and fat wallet were stuffed this day with the most money since February. Thx Satanbucks & Showcase Swap Shop. Sold a reel-to-reel for a meager profit :)

© Copyright 2007 Jakob Adler (jakobadler at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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