after a long afternoon nap on USC’s lawn i lift my arms toward the heaven in crucified form there’s hair in the grass and my skateboard is gone i sit there still wondering what happened to me was i just walking and then crashed to sleep or was i doing something i’d later regret people my age future doctors lawyers business men grounds keepers maintenance crews walked slowly on by talking about this or that getting up i fell down twice no one looked a second time maybe it was the grass stains on my shirt makeup runny laces untied LA Kings jersey hair in a nest from my left eye i catch the PD stares i smile a dainty coy like smile and they ride their bikes toward the black guy who’s finely dressed reading the medical text book
Alcoholism
some time back on Franklin ave.
i love it when youre mad at me
and i try to lick your salty nipple
as you mutter in uncertainty
in between gulps of rye
i love it when we play house
you smack my ass
unzip your pants
and demand me to please
i love it when you ask of me
about politics and i say
i dont know i cant relate
but ive got to go and serve
the broken today
i love it when you yell at me
i shoot to the moon smiling
nodding on the fourth
like when Idris met Azrael
it breaks my heart
to come home
while youre lying on the floor
Gulliver tied down by
tiny airport bottles
i hate it when
i make you cry
after my lips no longer blue
call out your name
right before vomiting
my weakness you on your back
cock hard me on top
losing myself without regard
but right before
i come bouncing back to you
turning my tide
your palms on my thighs
laughing as we die
cover my eyes on your way out
it hurts me when i know
that i will be leaving
in a few hours to get away
from you
ill really miss
that ethereal tiny kiss
gifted from you to me
upon my forehead
when you asked to marry me
there really is no comfort
knowing that i love you
two grotesquely beautiful
liars contending
upon the mirrors of our eyes
Faye
the skill is to find life in the routine she said i’ve stood at this counter for 30 years pumping the same bottles into the air and nobody cares she said
do you want some advice i could tell you that you’ll age if you don’t cover up your face in these narcotics made in Spain but it’s your body love it any way you want
ya’ see this scar above my perfectly lined brow fell off a tree in 1963 you have a lot of scars all over are you ok or are you one of those foster girls from down the block
i’m sorry listen that was harsh there’s this cream for $49.95 that can help heal those dark circles under your eyes it helped before my divorce hearing when Harry hit me
the freckles on your face and the bleaching out of your hair you really should try this salve from France you’re far too young to have this damage men like long soft chestnut hair like yours
oh my i didn’t see those tattoos i have a concealer for that but you should really get it removed and it’s a shame with your good bones naturally formed you’d be a good model but you’re too short
can you smile yes that’s it i think you could be on the cover of this magazine but you really have to clean up child you look like a dog town mop head skater boy
those nails you’ve chewed them to your shoulders look i have to take a break my boss might give me a raise but i feel that he just might leave his wife for me tomorrow
Grady, don’t tell your mom she’s my best friend and i think she would worry here’s her order and some make up for you we all have the demons jumping out of us and soon the scars of sin we carry in will come up to the surface
Figaro’s
he asked why do you keep her picture there in the drawer swallowing hard i realize that you were my mother more physically beautiful than any woman i’d ever seen no makeup no artificialness in any way i lied and i said oh i don’t know looking out the window at the bus stop i opened the drawer a few more times and there you remained stoic and frozen in your place as he gnawed at the steamy pepperoni pizza hot pocket and scratched his sack he yelled why don’t you put it in a frame and fear broke out in a sweat a slight vertigo took me and i rubbed my head looking for a hit he yelled again and saw what i was jonesing for he says nope not today lets go to the art store instead we dressed in American drag t-shirted leathered and jeaned he held my hand and missed my forehead kissing my aviators instead are you mad he asked i says no and think quickly about the flamingos at the zoo and the empty dark brown bottles of Kilkenny i left in the bus stop trash can two hours ago my feet feeling disconnected from my soul i says no i won’t go and he turns around to see me i can’t keep her in a frame it would be the ultimate betrayal she was Opa’s favorite until she met my Da and ran away with him imprisoned by her vanity and steadfast love for a man of misery determined to be his only queen on the backs of everybody she had to win but death did not agree what are you spewing about never mind i said i can’t keep her in a frame all her life she was held back by her thoughts expectations disappointments and aggressions even her people wandered the deserts and were rounded up in box cars as the evil ripped out their spirit and put them in cages i forgot he said but she’d like a frame she was always a refined lady as he smiled apologetically and the homeless guy with a grateful dead t-shirt on was handed a bologna sandwich by the salvation army guy as we detoured into Figaro’s Bistrot instead
sentimental
there is something mystic about how you held your cigarette and smiled at me with soothing turquoise eyes and a twinkle in your tone the mere idea of your touch floods me in places that i cant mention while the lilies stand alone in glasses full of wine i still think of you at dawn and how you made me woman through your arms and your voice and your dreams and your thoughts i was every femme fatale sans the silver screen a dress up doll knitted in the silk of your tongue remember your company’s party we were better than the real Rick and Ilsa when did time go by Charlie now the moons have passed and people descend lower into madness and love is threatened by my not finding my place without you my Black Flag to your Rolling Stones my Smiths to your CCR but we both liked Kurt Weill and we both loved making love and greasy fries afterwards longing is hell am i that bad as to have lost you “he’s up in heaven so i’ve got to be good” every now and again i see your pea green fedora staring at me and it says ‘mornin, angel’ with that Indiana twang
charm school drop out
it’s very late and the crickets are bedding down in the banana trees for the night and behind the brick walls yes the ones tagged with nonsense the drunkard kings are pissing i’ve been kicked out of many a slummy joint you wouldn’t be the first bouncer to pop that cherry although i give you the fact that i was a little loud when the barkeep wouldn’t take my buck for a bottle of vodka but you understand i’m petite and not of swift feet when i’ve had a few tom collins’ down my gullet ok i get it don’t call my parent’s and that is not my id card but i do resent it when you won’t admit it that i’m the best duker in the bunch and while i have rosy knuckles to prove it let’s not point out last week’s black eye but don’t worry about me by the time i’m in my forties i might have been through a few programs for exceptional drinkers but psychoanalysis has nothing to do with a girl having fun on a Saturday night and by the way can you hold my hair back i feel a wave of chili coming up
azures
heaviness in me
holds me down against the earth
my eyes while open
are deprived of your beauty
sinews in my brain toughened
hell hounds sucked bones clean
drowning of thirst for freedom
formidably sad
azures of my soul died away
my tear lands in the shot glass
two forests
as i followed the silver mist
i could not understand it was her voice
and the voice of the others in their
cocktail dresses
lyrically they laughed in a quasi celestial choir
while they clinked their martini glasses
she accounted the times after the war
running barefoot through Spandauer Forst
and feeling the twigs between her toes
her eyes welled up recounting her Vaters joy
flicking her red hair back in a proud swoosh
she reached for the vodka bottle
Sinatra hung above their shoulders
and nodded me into my room
little green eyes fell unto the carpet
“ja Mutti” trembled out
i woke up to the pounding of first
responders on my neighbor’s heart
on the corner of 5th and Wall
pink spider love
the tendons in my arms
sense of falling up
pangs and hisses
hole in the walls
beyond the sill
pigeons puff in heat
summer i feel
of the spinning axis
loss of sense no thoughts
just empty glass after empty glass
bumps on the gooses i think i think
looking up hanging down from the window
i think im Spiderman
woman that’s me
turn on my water works
over who
last one for the road
yes you hurt me
one toke full glass
new chance
i want to get off
now
those gray eyes
you’re passed out
on the bed made by
the leaders of example past
i remain standing
questionable victory
in this battle of the sexes
words less spoken 