hit the street
age 7
or
8

all my friends were
there

it was a school
without a grade
a test
with
many
teachers

and i would
learn
shit
then
go to
school

we are
prepared
for everything
and that
will not happen

as the
bus
hits
a pole
3 blocks
from
the hospital

as the
parachute
opens
as the
bat
hits
the ball

as the
organ
tunes

we are all
going to
the festival
celebrating
guns and
saints

in the
war i
drove a
tank and
carried a
very small
explosive

prayed to
saint
bernard
sang
a song
about
god
forgiving
us
all

mostly drove
saw it all
flash
from the
driver’s
side

it was always
a
thrill just
to sit
in
the
passenger seat

it is a different
view the
road without
the fingers
the
wheel

mesmerized
terrified
ready
unaware
and
almost
unified
by
what would
happen

far from
being
over
eases
into
tomorrow

surprised
shouldn’t be

after
days
weeks
months
decades

to
find myself
living
like
this

***

lots of
ice
fresh orange
juice
and some
dark
rum from
Jamaica

***

this
evaporates
i want to
call
and
there is no
phone
to
dial

i am alone
i am forever
i am a memory
you
the happy ending
on
the river of tears
fishing
just
sitting with your
book

yesterday ended
maybe some other time

moving with
the speed of a shadow
trails found in starlight
in the eyes of
god the mother

you must know
you must be able
to prove it

her fingers
massaging your shoulders
waits returns
for your neck
for the silence
to engage

unaware of the unaware
the bullet or the sword
the word printed
on the back of
your skull with
explicit directions
the silent code
allowing you to live
in a dream of
your very
own

and this is what
she said

i get to read off
the teleprompter now
these sentences still
written by some
angry asshole who
still knows absolutely
nothing

and
i waited for this

change

he said he
talks
to god
said
god gives directions

turn right there
turn left here
follow the signs
the arrows

they brought the holy
word the good book
and salvation
now they knew
they were saved

free from the demons
under
the willow tree

you were here
last
night
sitting in the
empty chair

drunk and sure
and smoking

talking about
fudge
your broken toe
and the bandage
not
on your middle
finger

it was fun
it was quiet
it was last
night