just another day
there are things
that are meant
to he secret
there are codes
that are followed
and no one
knows the meaning
or how the
human drama will
be played out
perhaps there will
be murder or
the sale of
drugs there will
be money to
be made no
matter what the
cost of it
so very lucky to have the Pope of Punk R. Banks put sound to the word with me
I woke up mid morning thinking of how many ways can one skin a couch. I slept on the floor boards of the 8th floor room of a woman who used “whore” as her pronoun. I smoked too many things last night and my head was throbbing. My nose bled some too as crunchy clusters of dried blood dropped onto my arm cupping my head.
Last night, on Werdin Place there were lots of people hangin’ out and doping up. Lounge lizards sitting on about half a dozen couches, right there in the middle of the musky alley. There was one couch in particular that was just foam and wood. It was still very clean, but as hard as I looked I couldn’t see where the cloth covering had gone to.
So that morning I started off with two canned espressos and a diet coke that I had in my book bag from last week. Tiffany came in from the shared bathroom down the hall. She was pissed or maybe her traced on eye brows were crooked. I just looked out the door past her calves. Someone was getting yelled at then she slammed the door. Her eyes were hard and mean; beady as hell too. Tiffany once told me that her momma had an affair with Elvis after her daddy left them to join the Navy. I never doubted her.
Tiffany lit a bong shaped like a big purple cock. A present from one of her many admirers she gasped between inhales. She offered but I politely declined. I was a few years away from wanting to explore those kinds of shapes inside of my mouth. I could see she was offended as she smacked her lips and twisted her neck at me. It hadn’t been the first time so I hid my smile from her.
Taking three long slow drags from the bong she stood up slowly and dropped her worn out Wonder Woman beach towel. The dirty blond pubic tufts flayed from her arm pits and crotch were stiff and wire like. Tiffany sat back down and I could see skin hang like Christmas decorations from collar bones and ribs. She was beautiful in a medical way.
We didn’t talk. I stirred around my back pack and got the works and a rock out. Tiffany held her chin high and words crawled from her ashy lips. You can cook and shoot if you let me fuck you. She smiled and said she had wanted a taste since last year. I wasn’t fazed by her condition, but I was inconvenienced because I didn’t really want to walk down to Werdin. I answered under my breath. Tiffany told me to get the hell out of her house. I said ok but thanks for letting me spend the night. I was growing tired at 19. There were 700 rooms at low weekly rates and I couldn’t just yet rent one. All my assets were tied in under the counter investments.
i woke up mid morning thinking of how many ways can one skin a couch i slept on the floor boards of the 8th floor room of a woman who used “whore” as her pronoun i smoked too many things last night and my head was throbbing my nose bled some too as crunchy clusters of dried blood dropped onto my arm cupping my head.
last night on Werdin Place there were lots of people hangin’ out and doping up lounge lizards sitting on about half a dozen couches right there in the middle of the musky alley there was one couch in particular that was just foam and wood it was still very clean but as hard as i looked i couldn’t see where the cloth covering had gone to
so that morning i started off with two canned espressos and a diet coke that i had in my book bag from last week Tiffany came in from the shared bathroom down the hall she was pissed or maybe her traced on eye brows were crooked i just looked out the door past her calves someone was getting yelled at then she slammed the door her eyes were hard and mean beady as hell too Tiffany once told me that her momma had an affair with Elvis after her daddy left them to join the Navy i never doubted her
Tiffany lit a bong shaped like a big purple cock a present from one of her many admirers she gasped between inhales she offered but i politely declined i was a few years away from wanting to explore those kinds of shapes inside of my mouth i could see she was offended as she smacked her lips and twisted her neck at me it hadn’t been the first time so i hid my smile from her
taking three long slow drags from the bong she stood up slowly and dropped her worn out Wonder Woman beach towel the dirty blond pubic tufts flayed from her arm pits and crotch were stiff and wire like Tiffany sat back down and i could see skin hang like Christmas decorations from collar bones and ribs she was beautiful in a medical way
we didn’t talk i stirred around my back pack and got the works and a rock out Tiffany held her chin high and words crawled from her ashy lips you can cook and shoot if you let me fuck you she smiled and said she had wanted a taste since last year i wasn’t fazed by her condition but i was inconvenienced because i didn’t really want to walk down to Werdin i answered under my breath Tiffany told me to get the hell out of her house i said ok but thanks for letting me spend the night i was growing tired at 19 there were 700 rooms at low weekly rates and i couldn’t just yet rent one all my assets were tied in under the counter investments
choice of youth
she tasted of memory
Selma ave where i fought a fight
bloody knuckles injured eye
it didn’t have to happen
but to drink my life away i made the choice in May
pain she’s tricky and eludes my reason at times
i’m left unto myself a sobbing child and so swinging back in madness
dignity falls down there is no count to tell
long gone are days of curbside medics looking for a score
safe behind a dignified door of comfort now with flagellating thoughts
if i could do it all again
twisted pipe cleaners
child did bend for me before
i closed her case file
for a kid named Crystal
first the beers
then the hard stuff
then snow
she said good God don’t you feel alive
i moved my face down
my eyes look up
grimace at the stars
smoke invades my ratted hair
miss my cat she said
his name was butterfly
got killed by coyotes in the west hills
don’t you miss your cat
silence
then a nod
a snort
and a pop
i don’t have pets
i’m not responsible enough
brown eyes tears up
cheeks scarlet
my parents hate me
i’ve been such a huge problem
i saw yellow rose buds in the therapy room she heaved
they want to put me on depakote i said
my nose bled a little
why
i flipped my daddy’s car
on the 10 heading east
oh
then she swallows loudly
malt liquor spills out
from the corners of her cold sore covered mouth
but i dig it here i say
i’m thankful for the cool scars i caress and stretch my arm
and that i am aware of my self destruction i guess
sounds like you’re winning the battle she says
my face falls
under my breath
reaching for another cigarette
i hear the boots coming to seek us out
we know the routine
our tiny back packs get buried under the decorative lava rocks
you/so what is the problem now
me/ nothing
you/your father is worried
me/hmmm… i haven’t seen him in three weeks
you/the school district is thinking of recommending a level 12
me/i don’t wanna go
you/it’s for your protection
me/all the shit i needed protection from has already happened
you/ why are you angry
me/why not
you/do you think sarcasm will help you
me/i’m not asking it to
you/your psych tests show you’re very smart
me/i’m a girl
you/(smile)
me/so… are you charging me or what
you/what’s the rush
me/you bore me
you/you made the driver crash his car
me/how do you figure that i was just crossing the street he ran the stop sign thinking i would suck his dick
you/now is that language necessary
me/i’m talking the way you boys do
you/he says you ran toward his car
me/i did not i was crossing the street J-walking to be perfectly honest
you/so you’re saying he was trying to kidnap you
me/no you’re saying that
you/enlighten me
me/he sped up as i was getting on the curb he thought i was a hooker
you/hmmm…are you sure
me/look i didn’t total a car so i really don’t care what you think or believe
you/your dad is worried about you he thinks you’re doing drugs
me/i know he’s doing drugs and more
you/you’re so young why so much hate and rage
me/(smile)
you/well
me/i’m cool man
you/maybe you need to go to juvey for a while
me/on what charge
you/(silent glare)
me/was my mom called
you/she told the principal to call your father
me/(knot in throat) cool
you/the driver wants to press charges
me/that’s fine
you/do you care about anything
me/sure i’d like to visit Bora Bora someday and i love NASA
you/you’re a piece of work
receptionist/the parent said he’s not dealing with this to call the mother
you/were going downtown kid
me/(knot in throat) may i request a copy of “The Catcher in the Rye”
you/(silent glare)
life you have this annoying way of walking by as i’m trying to see a point of view prescribed by a cold and sterile man
take today for instance i’m just whistling by on my way to the corners pungent with wet filth and frothy with human madness
every prophet will eventually go back to her house yet i am neither saint nor prophet but just a sinner looking for faith
here in front of me stands the place where we yes you my soul conscience and mind dwindled childhood away waiting for the unknown without fear bloated with arrogance
when i was a teen girl
i had a teen boy lover
he was broken like James Dean
and like Brando a real bad ass mutherfucker
he kissed with a platinum tongue
as we walked along the Venice sand
he’d get into fights
all bloody and bruised
but we still caught the moonlight
sucking on the booze
we’d fuck until we couldn’t walk
not because of sex or anything
but because of all the glue we huffed
those were wild times
in the eyes of other people
to a punk skater kid
of broken inner spirit
the life style was his fort
me i was just a wanna be
looking for a Trojan Horse
to leave this solar system far behind
by sixteen i’d been dead so many times
and had gotten taken advantage of by force
all because of it
Blaine with the dirty blonde mohawk
my only refuge that boy was
we swore our love
with Sharpie marker anarchy tattoos
and shared pizza crusts
from the dumpsters down on Zephyr
at night we’d find some Gypsy camp
and howl unto the face of angels
howling at the moon just seemed so trite
but when we’d look in each other’s eyes
there were no stars in them
like with the Montagues’ and Capulets’
just an existential escape past our sullied souls
knowing that we had no plan
just living for the day
no flowers in my hair
no money for the Goddamned fare
from desperation blvd. to hole ave.
just me and Blaine alone together
simultaneous fear and madness punching in the air
we lived like Cohen and the Beats
the Velvets and Andy and Billy Name
we talked about fascism and Ollie and the gang
La Revolucion y El Che
we talked about other times
his aunt Myrtle’s minced meat pie
Constantinople and even Hemingway
he read about the Bolsheviks
while i adored Bukowski
he slept in the LA Central Library
on my bony dirty lap
one of the most beautiful
and sacred memories of my life
was my chipped fingernail polish
fingers picking out two tiny
purple flower petals
from his gentle baby hair crown
I hadn’t been to the Cecil for about four months. I was going solo-er than usual. I had a habit and I needed to hide it, but at the Cecil, that meant hanging with the big children; my habit had to hide me. That took some energy, but I was chalked up to not only falling through the cracks, but literally jumping off the deepest canyon; voluntarily and with pleasure.
Tiny tattoos started bleeding through my skin and sex hated me. My mind was random, my family really random, but as I got older, I figured God’s grace ushered me through.
Early on a Friday morning just before 2 p.m., I decided to go see if spare cock Amos was still living at the Cecil. I was supposed to be at college prep but it wasn’t interesting. Sitting anywhere for longer than 8.9 seconds was excruciating and my limbs just needed to move.
The bust stop bench in front of the hotel had been vandalized and some Mexican guys in orange vests were loading the pretzelled metal unto a Metro Services pick-up. One of the guys, a squared faced short legged man with spikey salt and pepper hair puckered his lips at me a few times, like when a dog really needed to take a shit. I looked down, noticed a lady bug on the left cuff of my sleeve and cupped it in my right hand.
She was deep brick red with tiny black spots. Slowly the hand uncupped. The chipped black nail polish on my hand mimicked her spots. I too puckered my lips, blew a kiss and Holly flew away. I named things and stuff.
The hotel lobby was worn down, the palm trees dried out and their pots ashy and clay like. The coupons dissected and plucked from the Times were neatly stacked on the concierge’s desk. I sat across an olive toned man who wore a sports jacket and Laker color biker shorts. I could see that his toes were mostly calcified with nail fungus. He asked my name as he offered his, Steponas. Francine, I reciprocated starring at his foam green flip flops.
Looking around Steponas scooted to the edge of his couch. His ass must have been sweaty on account of the screeching sound he made when scooting. I sat back deeper into my couch crossed my twig legs and swung my combat boot left to right. Steponas retrieved.
My attention got hijacked by a loud drag queen coming down the stairs, but she wasn’t spare cock. She was just really pissed off. Apparently she contracted crabs and had no qualms about sharing it with the few meat bags staring at her in the lobby.
My eyebrowless Puerto Rican cutie with flaming red hair and flat ass stormed out cussing in Spanish now. I followed her as she bee lined north toward Broadway. I wondered if she’d be going to La India to share her tales of woe with the lovingly self-nick named “puta boys.”
i hadn’t been to the Cecil for about four months i was going solo-er than usual i had a habit and i needed to hide it but at the Cecil that meant hanging with the big children my habit had to hide me that took some energy but i was chalked up to not only falling through the cracks but literally jumping off the deepest canyon voluntarily and with pleasure
tiny tattoos started bleeding through my skin and sex hated me my mind was random my family really random but as i got older i figured God’s grace ushered me through
early on a friday morning just before 2 pm i decided to go see if spare cock Amos was still living at the Cecil i was supposed to be at college prep but it wasn’t interesting sitting anywhere for longer than 8.9 seconds was excruciating and my limbs just needed to move
the bust stop bench in front of the hotel had been vandalized and some Mexican guys in orange vests were loading the pretzelled metal unto a Metro Services pick-up one of the guys a squared faced short legged man with spikey salt and pepper hair puckered his lips at me a few times like when a dog really needed to take a shit i looked down noticed a lady bug on the left cuff of my sleeve and cupped it in my right hand
she was deep brick red with tiny black spots slowly the hand uncupped the chipped black nail polish on my hand mimicked her spots i too puckered my lips blew a kiss and Holly flew away named things and stuff
the hotel lobby was worn down the palm trees dried out and their pots ashy and clay like the coupons dissected and plucked from the Times were neatly stacked on the concierge’s desk i sat across an olive toned man who wore a sports jacket and Laker color biker shorts i could see that his toes were mostly calcified with nail fungus he asked my name as he offered his Steponas Francine i reciprocated starring at his foam green flip flops
looking around Steponas scooted to the edge of his couch his ass must have been sweaty on account of the screeching sound he made when scooting i sat back deeper into my couch crossed my twig legs and swung my combat boot left to right Steponas retrieved
my attention got hijacked by a loud drag queen coming down the stairs but she wasn’t Spare Cock she was just really pissed off apparently she contracted crabs and had no qualms about sharing it with the few meat bags staring at her in the lobby
my eyebrowless Puerto Rican cutie with flaming red hair and flat ass stormed out cussing in Spanish now i followed her as she bee lined north toward Broadway i wondered if she’d be going to La India to share her tales of woe with the lovingly self-nick named puta boys
words less spoken 