you picked me up from wherever i was
stayed just long enough as always
however long it takes to smoke these things
with no break between the let go or beauty of such a thing
i do not know what we were listening to, i did not hear the voices
of reason or consent or warning of what may come after this
it might have been beirut.
everyone's house smells of cat piss.
people that smoke indoors could open the goddam window.
there is nothing like an american spirit to negate our disastrous position.
to every position there is a disposition.
i am reminded of this everytime i give away the yellow tipped inhales that are not really mine.
i am reminded that i am really unoriginal everytime i see some boy with a mohawk.
and everytime a disabled man rolls in front of me in a wheelchair i feel helpless, and get the feeling that he does too.
the quarter in my pocket was an erasable memory but history is repeatable and always being cashed in for energy so to continue the dialogue between us and our buried forefathers.
people hungry were crisscrossing the crosswalks searching for food while this guy at the stop light was spitting on himself trying to eat ice cream while driving before it melted in his lap while
this girl was melting in her volvo projecting a smile in the shape of sundials onto my forehead telling me everything
would get better with..time.
and this other girl was sounding like a washing machine on the telephone.
somehow i got loaded into the dryer until nausea became serene under treetops.
somehow things have never been better than the morning i spent without you
i dont think this poem will ever end until i kiss you again.
and now that i have..
i am dry and freezing in the arms of chairs just waiting for the next one