I thought
for a minute, that I would live with a day-one priority list
As if
acts, pointed spits of intention could be thrust towards
Manhood,
substantial credence, valid work on the impetus, or some crap like that
I
realized I have no place to go, but to wander in thought
One day I
might start something
No one is
waiting on my paycheck, so I invented some
By giving
money away,
Then I
feel like an asshole for contemplating the admission
I wanted
to be grand today, have one of those good days
The kind
one resonates with haughty savor like I did something there
Maybe
have a beer, I have two left in the fridge from that time that guy came over
I am
afraid of what I might do with permission to drink alone
I cook a
lot, especially on weekends
Big vats
of chicken and Andouille gumbo, Tasso jambalaya, Gulf Shrimp Creole
I pack
the remnants into Tupperware in a roux of illusion
As if my refrigerator
is stuffed to the brim rather than naked… emperors eat well
Hell,
after I quit going to church, some Saturdays to Sundays
The only
places I go are the farmer’s market and the fish monger
The
garden my daughter and I planted when she was over
Has half-blooming
flowers on the left
The right
half is gray dirt; we planted red onions, cilantro
Ghost
peppers, sunflower seeds, nothing ever came up
The
spring rains, the fall hurricane was Isaac this year
Only one
with a flood
I saw a
lion go right up to a cheetah on satellite television
Ate his
throat, usually big cats don’t attack like that
Fast did
not flitch, the muscles crushed on the savannah
The
machine, the cash flow projection, the international venture capital infusion
I do not
really feel like vomiting in that bucket with a hole as of this hour
Maybe in ten
minutes, when I quit masturbating artistic nonsense poetry
But in
this space, nah, the old man can prove his metal before I continue to pedal
My skin
cancer hole is healing well; the cells are filling in like a jelly doughnut
Replenishing
itself naturally the way personified sugary blobs would
If they
had plans for world domination like Krispy-Kreme Hitler’s
Lots of
people go out of this world at the blade of a fast food drive through
I went
cold turkey about four years ago; at least I have that going for me
I wonder
what color a zebra’s penis is
I bet the
monochromes bite
I told my
co-worker yesterday that I think Iran is full of really smart people living
double lives,
one way for the street, one way in their homes,
America
and the U.N. are trying to implode the theocratic leadership behind the secular
figure heads as their currency plummets;
I also
said it was kind of a bitch move to worry so much
about
3,000 people dying on 911 compared to the aftermath
America
can’t take a punch, without losing control;
I guess
you are not supposed to say that shit in Franklinton, Louisiana,
Country
Parish fair was last week; town hall was closed for three days
I hope
nobody at work realizes or tries to make conversation about this birthday thing
I would
really rather parse worlds; plus I still feel that disinclination
From
human contact; I am more comfortable entering, watching, and leaving silently
Why does
anyone have to talk to anyone?
Thirty-four
years still have not figured that one out yet
We have
computers now; the beautiful web, I can type, type, type
Just like
my old memo notebooks, I can spew and don’t have to encumber skin
I can
bathe in a lounge of the silent oblivion; How glorious!
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