any town in the country,
dead browning pines
sit on the side
of the road that
brought them there…
new year’s resolutions
secretly broken
two times already…
trying to quit cigarettes,
calories, dirty habits…
the year creeps up like you were
pushed down a hill
on a sled
by an asshole
and that asshole
is you.
January 9th
Church Beer
church bells rang
down the street
while i sat in the car
alone
at the beer distributor
parking lot,
11:50 p.m.
chiming two songs
for no apparent reason,
fading into the
clanking of
beer bottles approaching.
The Daily Words
crude slogans and
Bible quotes
scrawled in vivid
pastel chalk
talk to me as i
walk to get iced tea.
jesus is love,
lesbians are great,
joey is the shit…all
to be washed out in
tomorrow’s rain…
they should have used
the wet cement that
the construction workers left
unattended.
Sand In My Face
as i wash my face,
i hope you’ll replace
the empty patch of time
that, with each day, is aligned.
as i run in place,
i know your joy will encase
the driftwood saga at hand
that is turning to sand.
Childhood Swayed Away
at 16,
i’d say:
come on over to my house.
we’ll listen to my stereo, watch my TV.
we’ll eat in my kitchen.
none of this was
actually
mine.
my friends didn’t arrive in
their cars.
it was their father’s collateral.
we owned nothing but
baseball cards,
passed down dirty magazines,
and a few compact discs.
this poem isn’t actually mine,
typed on a word processor
paid by hours of my mother
taking care of crack babies.
at 16,
i was a gimmick
swaying in a hammock,
held up by my parents’ paychecks,
and my ass still hurts
from falling to
the ground.
A Saturday Night With The Regulator
i awoke from my autumn daydream
to the smell of Thai ginger.
the sizzle of her sautee
sparkled at the bottom of the banister.
J-Boogie and the candlelit kitchen…
dressed in your urban suave threads.
i asked where are we going to tonight…
as she uncorked the shiraz, she said:
we can go anywhere.
i picked the scene last time.
i leave this up to you.
which cuisine haven’t we tried?
as long as we hit Filo’s
at roughly a quarter to nine.
we’re meeting some peeps in the bottom bar.
bring your Pumas.
it’s reggae night.
The Last Settlers
we’re not even remotely
ready to settle down.
we’ve got twenty more years,
then maybe we’ll take a bow.
sure, we look like senators,
talk professionally, never in doubt.
in the evenings we are
systematically always en route.
i’ll meet you after the happy hour, man.
and then we’ll head to the North Star show.
and maybe next year will finally be the year
that I save up some dough.
but for now…
such a lovely JPEG…
i wonder what she looks like…in person.
i’m drunk in the King of Prussia Mall…
three mojitos…
some random girl said it was pretty cool…
i’m drunk in the King of Prussia Mall…
buying a fifty-eight dollar sweater…
at Urban Outfitters…
fuck, get me the fuck out of here.
i’m drunk in the King of Prussia Mall…
where’s my car?
shit…where?…fuck…
Cyber Sailors
no baggage…no saggage.
it’s icy but there are sparks.
scones and hazelnut coffee,
a walk through Wissahickon Park.
holy shit, man…
did you get a look at that?
damn.
all you cyber sailors
will never be alone.
there’s too many of us forming
into a long drone.
Second Wind
second wind…come on in…
blow them blues from my skin.
second wind…stand me up…
squeeze my dreams void of fuss.
second wind…ring my phone…
electrify my gray bones.
second wind…enhance this year…
delete all of the filed fear.
second wind…remove me…
from being second best.
any second, any second, any second…now!
come on, second wind…
her green eyes have me pinned.
i need your wicked breeze…
to help me tally this win.
The Stallion Fleet
this is what i’ve been waiting for,
finished with winter’s lengthy tour.
sunglasses shade my tired eyes.
they awake to this warm surprise.
potpourri corners of Main St.
falafel sandwich is ready to eat.
puttin’ buttercups into her hair.
i’m a laidback lion, yet i care.
around here, the good vibe is king.
white gliders dip their soaring wings.
chillin’ out on slabs of cool concrete.
perched ready, we’re expanding the fleet.
each day’s just a white blank sheet.
and the sun never seems to set.
running into everyone…
festive havoc has begun.
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