one night’s all I need-

a row of stars filing up the sky.

one last chance-

an attempt out of the ditch.

tooth and skin and cry and prayer of death-

cheap noodle slurp

de Guadalupe shining over wishy-washy head-

for once,

one vibrant aura of blank city relief-

wood grain and oil drip.

recurring thought, word and dreams, repressed-

until years later, middle of pop shop echo.

 

 

 

rot gut and warm skin

on the white marble countertop.

she wants to hear everything I’m thinking- til I say it

“You might be booksmart but it won’t save your soul!”

now I haven’t seen her for days-

threw her lamp across the room.

we met back in the city, it was like my first time

in the bustle street sweep.

the sleeping pup on an old shirt running in his dreams, like me-

towards skyline cracked by forever-bye and never-go

tea never tastes the same after coffee-

she never tasted the same after you-

the highway never felt right before 3 a.m-

and “come back” hasn’t rang the same note since.

wake on a warm salsa breakfast fever-

she showed me around the backways

I’ve had longer friendships destroyed by less

dusting the moths off of her lamp.

 

 

It is, its when you’re laying in bed screaming out at the window “I’m so fucking loooonely” and the girl lying next to you turns over to tell you it’s ok and when your confidence is just as low as your competence and the odds aren’t against you, they haven’t even been set up yet, and you reach and thrust out in space and for the only second in your life the stars line up and planets rotate together and god shines his holy benevolent light on you and you know that tomorrow you’re gone, nothing here to attach your hopes to anymore it’s all out in I don’t know-ness where everything is so vibrant you can’t bear to look out at the road anymore and the darks are darker than you can find any kind of footing in, when you’re so ugly that the smiles are of pity and the frowns are of disgust and inside there might be mighty beauty but it’s been done and its out of style with the other beauties and the girl can’t commit and the boy can’t decide and the book wasn’t nearly as good as you hoped and two fisted and limp dicked you wake up for the fight of your life and get there too early to wait.

 

 

 

 

 

the names not a name

anymore

It’s a bugbite-

It’s a razor nic

at least when I hear it, or see them

but I do know what you’re getting at

It’s the jitters

still- more than shakes-

you have to explain it different to someone else

if your even going to try

but not to me

go ahead, read it over and over

-

you knew so much better back a few years

before the mornings were dull blue and the afternoon drone-on

grab some sleep for once

you can take it back, and give her away

like you anything to begin with.

“to mom”

 

 

it was the movie I waited months for

so I had a few drinks with friends

and I yelled “shut the fuck up” to the man upfront-

too much clatter

but I won’t tell you what I called him-

no mother should hear all

the verbal sins of her son-

at least in one sitting-

roars from the cinema seats

standing quick, he punched n’ grabbed at my face

but I yelled n’ hit him back-

like jerry would have-

like he would’ve wanted.

it took the entire row to pull us apart

for nothing

I missed the flick

had barely enough for a cab home

but what a show, mum.