maybe he pulls the shade down and turns the fan on
for some other reason than
sleep
it is hard to walk around all day
without putting something in your pocket or backpack
even harder, trying to do it all silently
without a smile
it means a shot in the face
with the camera, what sort of taking must be done
what silliness goes out the window
when we start to talk
about family, about humour
our character and whatever
or what have you, having not done a thing to be doomed
here
rode out to 72nd and burnside, to the patio
to the tree on fire
to the glass filled and filled and filled
an absolutely unquenchable kind of thirst
when drink is always the same as dust
you know it and drink it yet, still it sits heavy in your guts
and in your blood stream stinking of high spirits
you know how it is, fall
fall and the quarter distance to the coast
where we want sand to foam scalps
and sit on the stoop of a house no longer ours
no longer
when the shower was broken
we stuck heads under the sink for a gasp
of water, whatever whatever
you can decide not to feel the grit on the skin in the back of the car
sleeping like you should
i felt that skinny kid with his high ankle shoes showing me all that he is
with layers of zips and organized cottons
he knows; whatever
"love you", whatever
i was told about drums, with arms
at angles with typesettings
as stuck as you wish,
i remember that kind line just below his eyes
with no memory of his own but an impassioned blur
like a stripe across the canvas with a red and gold tip
is this a fix? he maintains that his is
totally fine
up the west i seen house so big it throw itself on me
it so brick it shoo away kids
it so old it live
walking, remember cherry blossoms
everything falls in spring and kids drink and fall over summer
till fall and that shows off
how its not winter
in the park blocks; a district made as paintings are,
shy vegetables from turkish soul make a palindrome
cutoffffotuc
i think thats the word for "beat", and "time"
maybe
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