loss six

another loss – vi

faith is porous on the streets. you only have what you see, and anyone wants you to believe there’s somethin more for you, if only you trust them for a moment. you gotta keep your faith deep in your heart, and not extend it to those who would use you… i tried explainin’ to you about your bike, and how i needed to switch it out for mine, and could get it back to you tomorrow if that was okay. but you lost some confidence in me and could i blame you? we did not run in the same circles anymore. we argued for a while. i implored you the bmx was safe inside my new digs on Magnolia. i offered you collateral if you wanted, i would leave my rings with you. if you wanted we could go and get it later. you thought about it and either you extended some faith in me or else you didn’t wanna argue anymore, and let it lie. i helped you pack your stuff and clean your place so you could get your deposit back, and you let me shower there before checking out, because where i was going, well, they might have had the law behind them and plenty of cash, but these corrupt attorneys letting me a room, well, they coulda been arrested for uncleanliness…

if friday was

if friday was saturday

the cost of living was an abbreviated attention span and the tasteless smell of green in the back of your throat. the cost of living was a cold brew coffee fueling an organism programmed to turn on itself. the cost of living was an unholy alliance with anonymity, a television you paid the company to babysit for, hours on end in an armchair, and a remote to control you by. the cost of living was free.

12.

twelve

Twelve went out for a run at eleven only to be liquefied by noon. A group of children roaming free for the summer came across the silver tracings and got down, low to the ground, and dipped their fingers into the silt, looked at one another and laughed. They painted their faces and tracked twelve back home. Lodged in the system for good and no longer alone, twelve struck twice a day and made himself known.

free

The air was popping and crackling and exploding all around us, and as the sun set i listened to independence day sing her song, sizzling and whistling and screaming into darkness, and the chaos of my mind went dead finally, in the midst of this busy life, and i became a small yet meaningful voice among millions, no, billions of inflections wishing to be heard. And small yet meaningful was all i ever was and cared to be.

coffee.black

black as desire

my coffee exposure exceeded its recommended daily allowance, and i showed all the telltale signs of caffeine exhaustion, from impending sense of doom to useless fights with the others, wishing i could snap myself into the center of a forest. my devices and pets were all vying for my attention but she was nowhere to be found. i reluctantly tossed a foamed paper cup with a sleeve into a blue bin at a cafĂ©, and went sideways into a night, steamwhistle of a pot on a stove, contracting a spirit into a five minute steep of an old reliable, constant comment. what to my dismay, her producers had changed her floral notes, and a memorable song of an early childhood was hummed through the teeth ona variable. i don’t care. tomorrow i’m strikin’ out for the old bean, scarred from the heat and black as desire.

strikes

made my strikes

I went bowling over the weekend and made my strikes… we had nothing left to spare. I dropped some van halen on the ears and a ten pound marble on wax floors, and that puppy found its way to the void and disappeared, taking a whole lotta sticks with it to the hereafter. My form wasn’t very good and gosh, I didn’t care about the arrows or the baseball game or the scorecard on the screen next to it. All I cared about was turning around to look you in the eyes and know you loved me.

re.verb

last day of may the reverb

America. was the last day of may and all of the dead end streets look like never ending roads, and all the dead end relationships are enthusiastic pressing another go around with hopes one lucky night of what we once had may carry a small sound around and turn the johnny rotten back to first date territory with long lashes and laughter, and heal the deep gashes like reverb sweetening the deal, to hold a song’s triumphant note deep into the memory of the night, a stripped mall’s dollar store turned boutique, a dead end presidency turned back to camelot and kennedy days, a mid-preaching pause full of meaning, careless words begin to care, a rebellion to the cause of suffer leaning… it was the last day of may and we have a chance to be deep again, full again, and resonant