i got my ticket to chino in the outskirts of la trying to hit the grid and be captured by the cable i wanna be electric and extended stay america ina pocket just between the riveting room for you and me… a queen bed in a salt valley flat in the middle of november a room service setup so not to disturb alone in the center of a spiderweb of circuitry flashing mad in the pan like a siamese fighting fish all the betta to see you translucent of the soft sheets you ink on
I had a great idea but got dehydrated and lost it. It wasn’t really mine, I just held it for the world for a moment and gave it away without even knowing. You could call that irresponsible or even tragic. Or just super special. The only painful part was my headache, but I cannot blame that on the idea… Now someone, maybe even you, has it and you could hold on to it and commit it to paper or the internet or the ethernet and let people discover it that way (like I had mapped out, myself, when I had it). Or let it come to them the way it came to me, suddenly, superbly, like it was really mine and not something I found online.
when we supposedly die, of the living only the closest to us remember us for very long and some of them keep to themselves, going to work coming home and maybe thinking aloud sometimes in a language the cats and dogs cannot decode, so only a trace of us remain, supposedly, and the witch hazel closes the roads and leaves us separate somewhere beneath the moisturizer beneath the foundation of a cover boy’s Covergirl world… only those closest to the ones who remembered us remember someone remembering us, whomever we are, in black and white or monochromatic, sepia seeping slow into the imaginations of someone else’s great grandchildren, who wear the looks of believers on buses to schools, and play on the playgrounds in old-fashioned ways, under timeless suns sucking up light and commonplace clouds through their straws, easily, atmospheres removed from the old pressures we once shared, before we learned our division, mettlesome in the worlds we changed and changed us, brought us up and down back when, gave us the resilient half smiles we wore for one another, and shared with the world sometimes, filling them out for the ones closest to us, supposedly, as we laughed recreating other faces from the outside in, in a purportedly powerful way, carrying beyond anyone’s wildest dreams across time and place and various things, young and mettlesome just like always, and never dying at all, anyway