Monday, August 30, 2010

One star, bright lights
below all but drowned out,
fixed watchfully in place

Thursday, August 26, 2010

The Vacation

I was in Ft. Lauderdale
drinking in a cheap motel bar
the fans had misters
spraying damp air at the clientele
trying to beat the humidity
the bartender was a gorgeous blond
older than she looked
and as the night was ending she eyed me
so I lit her a smoke
and asked her name

so fake names and bullshit stories
brought her to my suite
ten beers and some pot she smoked
got us on the floor
at the bed side
I laid down a quilted blanket
and we got to it
she was scratchy/rough and pleading
for bite marks
I facilitated all requests
she dug her heels into my back upon climax
and we smoked
hours with wine on the floor
and as she smiled and took my hand
I had a fisherman's blade
and I put it in her neck

her pupils went wide and she got serious
her hands spelled words and thoughts
I was sparking up my last menthol
as she clutched at the spewing wound
I looked and smiled
told her she was beautiful
and killed a corona bottle quickly
she was burping blood
it matched her lipstick magically
and as the wound's gush lessend
she was clutching at the sheets on the bed
graffitto-tagging them with bloody hand prints
and I pressed my smoke into the pillow

the morning came as I sat poolside
with the finest singapore sling
check out's nearing but I'm all packed
all I need is a real feeling
as I enter the room the cleaning crew's leaving
Luis grabs my arm
says, "your chica's on cycle"
I mouth a 'yes' and yawn
the quilted blanket from the floor
crumpled in my luggage
I grab a cab and fix my shades
an hour at the air port bar
then take off has me saved

The Will and Testament

fry me up a last meal
let it be greasy, hot, and dripping
fix me up a last drink
make it a double; I'm not sipping
knock me down one time
'cause you got this one last chance
split my lip tonight
knock me loose of this trance
cut yourself and accuse me
break a bone and say my name
kill a loved one you don't love
put my prints on blades for blame
I'll take all the vices
I'll take all the sin
I'm walking off set finally
I don't really need the win
I've been dark, vague, and despserate
I've been one long bitter tale
so clean me up when I go still
but lay my epitaph out in brail

A Beautiful Thumping

this big funk sound
has us in dance seizure
flipping legs and bouncing elbows
and between sips we make time
to casually kiss
like it means nothing
maybe it doesn't
maybe my radar's fucked
but eye see you eyeing
I see the color in your cheeks
when I slide my fingers over yours
and your smile is high and giant
your an evolution on this floor
a higher being to which we must adapt
and the stragglers have our pity
but you're no top shelf elitist
you're no Coach bag hanger
you are eyes and mind
and words over words
and no one can pay enough
to buy a better trait


If I could find you now
I'd tell you that all we had
was just as precious to me
if I could bring you up
like out of a dream
or a thought
you'd be that first sight
like you were in the park
while I was drinking milk
writing on my porch
looking like a dick
you'd be new and undiscovered
I'd be curious and unbroken
by the cynicism of a man living
this short drag life
and I'd once again
offer you my hand
and we'd walk six more miles