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this was not written in a sober state. |
I shuffled in ash black coat to the market where I pulled off a banana and a beer I was one penny short Mother Gloria let it slide “You’re not going anywhere”, she said until she brown paper bagged it all men walk around with vices in brown paper bags it’s the way my America works play it safe don’t expose too much of the tender belly that makes us human all armor and false bravery, my America but our cats know what’s going on looking in dark cupboards and sleeping all day by the window dreaming you want to know the meaning of life? look out the window I did I saw a tree shaking on snowy sky I saw the screen meshed, messing up the precise eye my right socket has been aching all day last night I was drinking San Francisco away Southern Comfort in kids park abandoned to lawless night sushi bar and beer chinese karaoke and a bowl of peanuts Vesuvius of some fame to mongrel geniuses came before while one friend went to the peep show like a good Catholic habit to liquor store for more of the same firewater we dosed on in the playground and down to the bay between piers swinging my feet over the edge talking trash and wisdom of love and young life the tarwater below smooth with light lines of polished precious stone called up a friend and lilted this way and that on breakup etiquette around a week before today my true love chopped the head off our dying horse the phone friend, a he, tells me I need to mourn more for impending rebounds occur I’ve mourned quick I’m moving on and I will never know what he needs as a man I’ll murk and meander though this heartbroken season with my head high I won’t deny the rest of my life the air it needs I’m not going to dwell and commiserate with my ex’s mode of healing which seems to involve a whole lot of denial, mankind’s strongest weapon let me see the blood red flushing cheeks and puffy eyes let me see the carnage and debris I can’t stumble round in the dark tripping in circles year in and year out the ex told me I didn’t seem to have a plan well, one he couldn’t, for sure, understand I want to shred the brown paper bags and take on the justifications take DOWN the justifications gesticulation of the ways of nothing as something these, indeed, are troubling times, my America poised to collapse in pious shock therapy while women who don’t know any more than I are pushing buttons and steering my America into a wasteland of the mind young people will rise up from the ashes radical right-on and irrelevant . All of this is over in the blink of an eye. |