Sink softly with the night that swallows you.
No, none for me, thanks, I'm Mr. Weiner. And here's a story
of an otherwise distinguished gentleman.

I often wonder how long it takes the heart to find its place. I often consider all my previous mistakes. I'm a jolly good fellow with a belly full of wine! I think people laugh at me when I leave.

If I left, my cat would miss me. My neighbor Al, he doesn't know me. Our empty chats together are a point of pride. We talk about our lawns, sprinklers, street parking, etc. I wouldn't want to cut that routine. We sometimes just exchange greetings in the evenings with our briefcases.

"Greetings, Bill.
Greetings, Bob."

He must have divorced the step-mother of his daughter. She moved out. I think he's on better terms with his first wife; I notice her car more often. Some mornings I sip my coffee and spot another woman doing the walk of shame from his house. He works out. If I looked like him I'd wear a bandanna and a sleeveless shirt and do my sets near the stairmaster. I wonder what he's noticed about me.

He wanted me to go halfsies on a white fence. I'm not going to do it but next time I'll ask him about the materials and hardware stores.

I imagine he might say we can just paint the wood white, and then we can go from there

Sink softly with the night that swallows you.
No, none for me, thanks, I'm Mr. Weiner.

And here's a story
about an otherwise distinguished gentleman.

I often wonder how long it takes the heart to find its place. I often consider all my previous mistakes.

I'm a jolly good fellow with a belly full of wine! I think people laugh at me when I leave.

come together like butt cheeks
fuck this shit

should I pet it or something?

I don't know how to act around kids, babies, little kids, children. I don't know what to say to them. I'm at a complete loss.

I can't sleep at nights. No matter how early I wake up, if I make it through the evening, I'm restless in the early hours, or late. I read in the news recently about three young drunk kids who lost control in a car and smashed through a pizza parlour. I think they hit a gas line and blew up. I pass by the scene a few times a week. There's flowers and pictures and black stains on the wall and the store is boarded up. They had their tidbit on the daily news, and we all talked about it and asked if anyone knew them and weird questions like who's pizza shop that was and what were they driving. And some citizens were interested in why the kids were recent immigrants driving a 90 thousand dollar car. Days go by and people stop thinking about them, except for people like me. I first wondered what their families were doing right now. How are they spending their days? Are their famikies close or is there ill will and blaming? Did the kids die on impact or were they at some point aware that they were burning? If one was ejected, was there a moment that he was aware of it? If you're burning, how long before you stop feeeling it? I think it's unfair that some people have to experience these things, such horror I can't even imagine. What is it like to be aware of these -what is it, sensations? If your skin is melting off, it's your brain telling you that...what? I dunno man, WHAT THE Fuck! What if you could feel it for like 3 seconds, and then you would be all right. Just to know what it felt like. Prolly still wouldn't be able to recall and put the sensations in words. There's people who have been burned badly and lived. How can they possibly describe it? Having super powers to allow you to do things, like jumping off a bridge or groping your neighbor's wife and then waking up again like Groundhog Day. Being in a plane crash - BUT! what if before the plane crashes, you're thrown all over the plane and things are smashing into you, you lose a limb here but it's still hanging on or your intestines are falling out. No, a plane crash is still too risky even for a Groundhog Day life. (I imagine some pain is too unbearably at any cost). I would love to have that kind of life. Death obviously is not painful, but dying sucks. I was electrocuted once. Well, it was just a shock, when i had my hand on a socket in the bathroom, i forget how it happened. But it hurt, it felt like something just yanked my arm, but so hard that i felt it move up into the middle of my chest. But in that moment i wasnt thinking of what that sensation felt like. I was in it and thats all I could comprehend. I didnt know i was experiencing pain until the sensation was gone and i was thinking about it. So maybe if i was being electrcuted to death, i would not be aware that i am dying, and maybe would not be aware of the pain.

- Hey baby, you like chocolate?
- What the hell's that supposed to mean?
- Nevermind.
- ... Check.
- Check. So you got nice feet?
- I guess.
- Nice feet should be taken care of.
- Mine are.
- What do you use to soak -
- Raise.
- Raise? What could you have? Yeah, you know what you have: no rough patches, no unpleasant ridges, smooth, smooth - I'm all-in, baby!
- Can someone get this pervert outta here?

a tourist

Men of age, with cardigans and french berets,
have scrounged enough for a loaf of bread.
Their countenance -
once cultivated by a humble resoluteness -
has grown red with poverty and the weather.
And their wisdom has grown drowsy
and acquainted with the spirit of the city.

Stray dogs wander the streets with them,
and linger outside the produce store.
Men with arrogant suits and a respectable air pass by -
Their word and their name.
Boys long to be a Man of their Time.
The women go shopping.
The women want security.
Girls pass by -
I'm so fuckin lonely all the time!
I'd use her breasts to rest my head,
wake up and lick her face

...

I remember traveling by horse
with postage stamps and polaroids.
I remember when we wrote letters.

I remember searching
for the slightest inkling,
pondering the eternal question,
"What are you thinking?

The question of our lives,
the words of our time -
now I know.
Every hour I know.

i will return to you,
inevitably
my little nymph


if i could live in a room with no windows
and no door
if i could build a bombshelter
hidden from view
if i could be invisible

Nestled deep within
bundled down below
there at least
it can roam freely

Morning Glory

Drop off the kids
and drop some bombs.
Open up the flood-gates,
Here I comes!