I don’t want to call you
back,
I just don’t feel like
it
I don’t have any
clever bullshit for you,
I’m too tired,
I don’t have time to romanticize
out of windows anymore
and
I’ve been on
green tea lately
which is supposed
to improve your health
but lousy for
feeling right
ya, you see,
I’m not gonna call you,
I’m not gonna sweet talk you
until we wind up in your bed upstairs
with an empty pint on the
counter in the kitchen below,
I’m not gonna check if the door’s locked in the middle
of the night,
stumble through
my half-sleep and
the welcome dizziness
of one too many,
only to face
another normal morning
the full moon
sits above the
skyline,
engines are
gunned
then silent
between the
empty
lobbies
and the still air of
spring is clear,
it takes
me down the
interstate
drunk on
the night…
when will you wake up,
lose the battle
and follow your
heart back here
to
this
sunken
empire
sometimes you
have to let the wave
take you down
because if you
fight it
you’ll lose
everything,
sometimes
it can’t be
beat
no matter who you are,
what you’ve done,
what you think you’re
gonna do,
so you throw the switch to
autopilot, grab
a drink and hope
there’s something left
when you
float back
up
Todd licked his thumb, something he rarely did, and split the pages of the book. He settled on a paragraph and read silently:
“The sun beat down on her facile, tender nipples. The Mediterranean breeze carried a balmy fragrance in from the Aegean Islands, rippling her nubile skin with pleasure…”
Todd folded the book over his thumb and stared at the flat tire. There were two distinct puncture marks in the rubber, it appeared to have been bitten by a snake. He placed the book back where he had found it, under the back left deflated tire and took a picture of the scene with his cell phone. The calm yet challenging eyes of the dark featured man on the book cover stared back at him. Todd lit a cigarette.
His phone rang. He answered it.
“Did you figure it OUT?”
“No, I mean there are just two holes in there.”
“And the BOOK?”
“And the book.”
Todd ashed the cigarette, little flakes sprinkled the asphalt and his jeans.
“Are you gonna call the cops?”
“I don’t know,” Todd said. He was beginning to sweat. There was a fast food restaurant across the street. He stared at it. He wanted a soda.
“And you have NO idea who it was?”
“Nope.”
“It sounds premeditated to me.”
“Hey, I’ve gotta go.” Todd hung up and checked his pockets for his keys and his wallet then walked towards the restaurant. He flicked the cigarette away, in his mind the act seemed dramatic, heroic, but it really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
Anyway, we were drunk at the pet store and I was with the fish and she was with the pigs and she kept yelling things over to me like, “His tiny tail is the fruit of the universe!” and “Our souls are buried in our misperception of time!” I agreed but I was distracted, I was watching the water slugs, they were cleaning the tanks in a moving and stunning way.
All of a sudden there was this lady in a polo shirt next to me and she told me that I had to throw away my french fries. She had glazed eyes, they were jaded and pained. I had to get out of there as soon as possible.
So, we walked home, it was just one street down, through the suburbs and I kissed her goodnight at the door. Our teeth clicked together in the kiss and my fingers pulled into her skin a little bit even though I had not directed them to do that. Then it was over and I was gone before she shut the door.
I got to my house and there was a strange ringing in the air, the ringing of emptiness. And I laughed, I grabbed the side of my dining room table, I laughed so hard that I began making strange sounds. I stooped down to a knee and just really laughed. If someone saw me, they would have thought I was insane. It struck me as odd how it is expected for someone cry uncontrollably suddenly and alone but to laugh, unwarranted and aggressively it was alarming. Well, alright. I laid down on the carpet.
our love does not
know time
but it knows our bed well,
it knows our laughter
note for note—
it hears
your sleepy voice,
broken
in the morning
I got there about 2PM, I had a toothpick in my mouth, I’d picked it up at the front door—at the desk where the hostess was.
I sat down on a stool and I saw her in there, the greatest bartender of all time. I hadn’t seen her in months, I’d assumed she quit. I waved at her and she waved back. It was a hell of a moment, you should have been there.
Eventually, she made her way over to me and I said, “How the hell are you, baby.”
And she said, “I feel fucking great, I’ve been eating turnips. I blend them with yogurt.”
And I said, “Bullshit.”
And she said, “You bet.”
And then she leaned in and said, “You know what?” I didn’t know. She said, “Today’s my last day.”
I said, “Like hell.”
And when she nodded her head in a strange, sad way, I knew that it was true.
She turned around to get this asshole next to me some oysters and I saw her long ponytail. It ended right where her ass began.
you left me
like picking up
the laundry,
not even
30mph,
visor down,
no blinker.
and you took the
winter with
you.
now
I wait,
smiling,
for the
jaws of
long
summer days
don’t use
life like a rake,
use it like a
chainsaw,
like
a
blind
rabid
dragon,
use it
without yellow
tape
and
undigested,
use it roughly
and pull
its hair,
swing hard with little
thought
and watch
it
unfold
here’s another
drink to you,
one more
to calm
my nerves,
to get me back
to that place
where
neon time
bends
around
the wildflowers of the
moon,
when the
morning touches
down on
earth
like
a tadpole
dropped
“well,” I said, “I’m trying to be tough and honest.”
“who wants to hear that kind of shit?”
she padded her bare feet
across the carpet
swinging the bottle
of vodka
loosely
like a thurible,
she walked up to
my bookcase and started
rearranging things,
throwing some of the items on the floor
“people want to feel good, they want baby dogs
in athletic wear, they want fruity cereal, shit like that.”
“baby dogs?”
“yeah,”
she pulled a book off the shelf
and returned to
the bed with it
“you mean puppies?”
“oh my god, WHATEVER.”
“how would you write about that?”
“IDONTKNOWOMYGOD!”
I got out of bed
and walked to the other room,
the page was still there,
empty,
glowing
lovers bark
and
the sky shivers
with thunder
and the faces at cashier
counters
are shy,
they are patient
and
merciful
and my
feet are
soaking
from the parking lot,
the winter is gone
and you are gone
and there’s a
wet rose
out there,
lost,
in the
shining
street
“why are you so horny all the time, what’s wrong with you?”
it was the late morning and
I was laying behind her,
“the big spoon” as
they refer to it
in sitcoms,
and I was grinding myself
into her,
which is something
they frequently leave out of sitcoms,
“all guys are horny,” I told her,
“it’s the way it is, don’t you watch tv?”
“my last boyfriend wasn’t like that.”
“oh.”
I had moved my attention to her
chest,
I had them,
I was working them over.
she pushed my hands down.
“what about BREAKFAST?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I AM!”
she wiggled away from me and hopped
into the bathroom,
I watched her stand in front of
the mirror,
she tugged at her hair,
rubbed creams on her face,
she wiped and
padded,
women had a lot to do in the morning.
I rolled on my back
and stared up at the ceiling,
at
my old
friend,
the fan.
when she finally discovered
my poetry,
she said,
“well, now I know you actually feel things.”
and I didn’t say anything,
I wasn’t sure how I felt about it,
I was kind of relieved and
also kind of pissed
but I didn’t feel like dealing
with either
emotion
so I finished
my burrito
and hoped that was
the end
of it
