I am a fool who knows better & chooses worse
April 11, 2017
——I sat here last year, also with the sun in my eyes.
What good, what hope, is there that this cycle will exceed the
——Waking not-hungover (tho deserved) on a couch as like
——from a nap to hear the splash of stomach purging
——into a toilet walls-away & wondering, ‘Is my
——housemate sick from some microbial invader or
——last nite’s microbrew invited excessive in?’ The
——answer of sickness put-upon or self-made soon
——arrives as he leaves his room to go to work usual.
——You must live with yr misery when you’ve earned it.
The older I get, the more sensitive I get to my creepiness.
I always was, but I’m more aware now than then & suspect
people will be less forgiving of my flab, wrinkles,
& gray hairs.
——At the second bar, they didnt join me outside or ask
——if I’d move in to join them. It may have been too cold, but I
——took the message to be I ought to go. So I did, & walked
I profess to know more than I do, esp. about
how another person ought to act.
April 20, 2017
In the past, I was ignorant & made poor decisions
of youth & inexperience: now I am a fool who knows
better & chooses worse.
——‘The dogs have a mighty appetite.’
I wouldnt piss on that man if he were on fire,
but Jesus would spit on his face if he were deaf.
That’s why he’s the Messiah, tho, I guess.
——You’ve got to feed the children before the dogs.
Old people spend a lot of time thinking about death,
remembering how those in the past passed away.
How long it took, what their state of mind was when they went.
Age is remembering more people dead than you know
——I think I might could, if I squint & holler.
‘My god when you’re young, you do such stupid things!’
April 23, 2017
‘I guess I wont see you again.’ ‘Not this trip, no.’
But she knew what she’d said & meant it.
——Instead I came out to listen to live music in the
——fading afternoon of not quite 8 p.m. West Texas.
‘Raise your kids in Midland; raise hell in Odessa,’ sounds
clever the first time you hear it, but it’s a lot less clever
when you’re a kid raised in a city of high hell.
——Rooster’s Rolling Dinner Presents Andy Davis.
All that nonsense about social justice & being
a decent person to those who are systematically
mistreated, esp. at my expense, cant make up for
the shitty way I treat those closest to me, but
my conscience shushes me or is shushed.
——’Heartbreak yellow’ is a great lyric-phrase.
Twenty-five folk, or some couple more struggling in lately,
sitting in a backyard w/ ‘Survivor’-style torches against the fence.
Bring Your Own Beer, it turned out, instead of a cash bar.
A bare wood pallet beside a stump for a stage; the sunlight
just clinging to the fence top by its fingernail rays. Across,
the decrepit metal shed is more rust-red than paint on the roof,
the walls covered with at least two rounds of paint-overs
but near the ground holes creep up the bottom like a fire
put to a paper’s edge, burning in slow motion, across decades.
——’You ready for another beer?’ ‘Nah, I’m good. Thank you kindly tho.’
——She picks up the can, shakes it & feels by weight & sounds it isnt but half
——dranked. ‘Why, you arent even drinking anything.’ ‘You need to get on it.’
——’Sure. Thank you kindly.’ ‘I’ll take care of you.’
My friends get gray in their bears & their bodies groan when they move even
before their throats do. And I’m just the same.
——How long has it been?
‘Is that the guy who ate out the drunk stripper at the bachelor party?’
‘No, he fucked her & she was on the rag.’
‘The meth head? Barebacked?’
‘No, he wore a condom.’
‘But shh on all that. His fiance his here.’
I fret cause my friend is Jesus’s age & still has not found
his limit. His favorite cocktail now aint mixed in a shaker but
in his own bloodstream, so the only consistent ingredient
is ‘yes’ & ‘more’. I fret cause he says he dont go out his way
to buy coke, but everywhere he go, he know a body
who can sell him coke. And he offers me acid for to use on
the plane ride home, and he does speed now not for fun, just
to get the laundry done. He did some speed—just a little—before picking
me up, drunkdrunkdrunk, to get RO water then to a house afterparty.
He wants to bang the host’s half-sister because she lives out of an RV,
has a drinking problem, among several others, & surely puts out.
I say, ‘You cant be so thirsty, man. Just argue with her a bit, make
eye-contact. Ask her about her problems. She’ll tell you. People like to
monologue about the drama of ther life. Dont try sit next to her or
talk about when next you’re off work or nunna that. Just be content
within yourself. You’ll pull pussy like crazy.’ And all he does is nunna that.
Cant piss in the backyard without makin a joke about his dick, cant hear tell
of hid tattoo without askin for proof. He’s Jesus’s age but stayed in Nazareth.
I fret cause I cock block him without meanin to just by bein more inarested
in what’s goin on with the inflatable pink flamingo on the trampoline than
stickin my dick in anything. But RV girl wants to give digits before I leave.
I am drunk & have to fly in three hours, and I still havent slept.
I am too tired to fuck anything now, but she says she’ll visit Seattle soon.
I’m too slutty to say no, but I’ll delete the number after I go. (Right?)
My friend offers a ride, but I dont have far, and my legs will carry me.
And then a plane will.