I reached out for you in the night over landscapes of empty pillows and I really wouldn't know what to say anyway.
No fair. This place changes everytime I wake up. Each morning it takesme a while to figure out which law of physics has been usurped, inverted. Sometimes it takes longer than others. It's not fair. Foul play. A place where there is no work, no reward, just silly empty play. Kick up your heels. Kick a bucket. Punch a ticket or two. The movies all use blue. A one note bone flute solo to soothe. Being blue will never be blown quite the same way again. Now all your blues are a drag. Father Time in drag is hesitating in the garden, indecisive as a woman.
She asks why I swear so much. A spoiled sheltered man that's trying to sound streetwise? A dumb peasant attempting to be phlisophical? More likely a vaguely educated socially inept boy that's seen Scarface too many times. It's time to surface. Dreaming in submarines. A black barbed shark sinking in inky crude oil seas. Some wise ass actually stacked nine full size replicas of the Empire State building in the Mariana Trench and I'm scared to think of what type of ape climbs those from that depth. A publicity stunt. You be the judge. You be the author, I'm tired of writing. By now you get the pattern and you can stop reading. Get out. Do something with your life. Don't worry, I'll still be here when you get back. Go on.
up so go on
on up so go
go on up so
so go on up
write your name on heaven's slate
She poses as aparabola and I'm golden and arching over her, just hamming it up. Just humming and strumming one note, stringing my bow to thread the needle. Glad glad relief and we'll rest now. Letting the sweat dry and eating ice cream. We'll pray together now.
By the way, before I forget...nevermind.
Who pulls the string that pulls from my chest. Who put this hook in my lip? How many more miles of bad road being dragged from this shitty truck before the line snaps? Someone up there is a mighty shitty driver if you ask me. Someone's asleep at the wheel, out to lunch. Time to wake up.
I'll streak your funereal.