Childhood Friend of Skateboard Persuassion

We meet on North Avenue

Again

It is the same

there is no enthusiasm
no expectations

You don't talk until we are in the car,
except for the statement, to which I agreed,
"no one is dancing. it's like they are against having a good time."

I wonder about this.
Is it to look cool, to appear cool?
Serious-club-mugged up on the street -fest?

The mugging part of the night doesn't come until later.

I am talking about people who get dressed up, go out and don't have fun.
Is their idea of having fun pretending to not have fun?
To be too serious to shake their knees out from under
the office-desk or the hipsterville bathroom haircut or the thrift store-looking-internet shirt for
forty-five seconds to have a galavanting-high-falootin'-let-loose-the goose-caboose-good time?

This is exactly the kind of thing that makes me throw Starbucks' chairs.

Humph.
Pah.

I like to Fake-Hate
And then laugh hysterically about it.
I like to Boca-bitch and see how seriously someone reacts.
But if it doesn't include dancing and laughing hysterically

and then sex, perhaps

I can't jive with it.

Lamers.

Year-old-condom-carryin'-no-talkin'-no-jokin'-lap-top-totin'-wanna-be-junkie-aspiring-no-go-getting-cocaine heads at the art bar.

Lameoid limp dicks.

Ha ha.

Anyway. So, after protestations about "why people aren't dancing" and lots of other theories and revellings of the past, we walked across the yellow bridge.

And at the end of the evening, my conclusion was that "lying is fun," by the way, but I am not done telling this story, so hold on for a minute while i get to the point.

You said, as you carried your skateboard across the yellow bridge, that it was the "mugging part of the evening" and that was one of the reasons you carried your skateboard because you don't actually ride it.
You haven't had the courage to get onto it.

You are scared of getting hurt.

In the car, as I drive you home, you tell me about being ejected from the sky-diving club.
It appears this is a nation-wide clique to which you rubbed some members the wrong way
because one of them thought you stole their five dollar wallet with five dollars in it

and why would you steal a five dollar wallet, and then give it back?
It goes against the whole idea of stealing

when you admit to the mistake of picking up an identical wallet,

it was identical to yours, and as you did laundry, you just happened to pocket both wallets.

At this point, I checked my purse to make sure that my wallet was still intact
because as entertaining as the story was, I have always held the belief that
I should NEVER trust anyone who says they are honest.

You got out of my car at your house.

And as I turned my head, I predicted what I would see.

You

cooly and calmly

and almost professionally

glided gracefully southward down the street

atop your skateboard of fear.

Because I Can ( Can-Can-Mambo-Rumba )

Can= Freedom

Can't= Prison

Remember the quote about "stand for something or you'll fall for anything" ?


What I propose is looking toward an attitude of being "against everything."


I am against everything sometimes.
I have been, anyway, lately.

If there was any way I could object, I would have.

I would detest
objections.

I would reject objects.

I would suspect subjects.

I would collect specimens and refuse them to the department of
recycling.

I would toss out devil's advocates and turn them into bumbling bumble bees.

The underground is undone and overdone.

Blue Radiation Charcoal Screen Burn

I don't go to the beach
Not at the Atlantic, nor on the University Campus
I tramp
for tea
and sushi

I tramp
for salad
and coffee

I roll for books
and looks

Lawnmower
looks
from red-headed little neighbor girl
whose
father
sees her watching me
craning her neck

Peripheral notice
transfer--
thought--
curious--

...not a little lesbian...

something else

curious

i am always rushing,

i only get as many groceries as I can carry by myself

i have lots of visitors

is that interesting?

It's probably the boys

yes,
it's the boys

Father yells to get her attention
and snaps her head around
with a bark

Cell Phone Realism

Hurry.

Stop.

Be better.

You're the best.

Except for that I hate it when people do this

thing

that you just did yesterday

So,
don't

read in to

anything I say.

Because I am inconsistent.

Lust Car Park Scenario, But Not What You Are Thinking

Hammer to cement
Break the rocks open back to sand
Chipping away at the breakdown

Last week I threw a Starbucks chair into traffic.
And then, another one into a windshield of a car coming around the drive-thru.

Yesterday I watched a lamb roast
Stood in a circle and listened to singing and watched signs of the cross tossed in the air

Wanting to jump into the empty pool after lining up everyone by astrological signs

Because there are no logical signs.

Today I sat in the car in the rain
eating Good and Plenty by the handful
and screamed out the window
that everyone was a loser,
and shut up
and fuck you.

Yesterday, I tried to help the cousin-guy by carving his name into the styrofoam container.
I was told to stop because he is schizophrenic.

I said, "I got this."

If you are schizophrenic, you can enthusiastically introduce yourself to me as much as you want.
And you can ask if I am married.
And you can ask if I came with my boyfriend.
The soccer player? No, that's not my boyfriend. He's actually your cousin. He is related to you. And he parked his car next to mine and walked in with me.
I only know him from facebook.
But, I could kick his ass on the soccer field.

'Maybe throw a Starbucks chair at him when the spell is broken.

Night Tea Orange Apple Time

The apples are still green
That is there are still green apples on top of the brown ugly microwave.
There is a little silver tinfoil-wrapped package of charcoal for incense.
Naval oranges in a plastic bag, inside a basket.
And a Japanese Luck Cat sitting half-assed on the edge of a thick book called
The Aquarian Conspiracy

There was a conspiracy.

Look at July to see the lie.

There is a tarot deck, my grandfather's copy
of Alcoholics Anonymous.

There are Aesop's Fables and some philosophy books.

The incense burner is clean.

It is finally over.

Throw the Kitten in the Oven

You are the type
To throw a kitten


In the Oven


When it is heated up to 350 degrees

And cock your head to the side

And ask why the kitten is acting funny
And doesn't like you anymore.

Your Mother in the Freezer

Yellow
Yellow
Red
red
Blue
Silver
Silver
Black Lace


Ice

UN RE QUITE U NIGHT

The universal love vibration
People die from it

It kills a part of every person it touches
It makes a smile bitter

It makes smiling people stop smiling
And grow suspicious

Burn it
And wash it away

Fire and Water

Tarot Cards
Cards
Read
Present
Card
Read:
THIS IS A COMMAND
You Are Being Lied To Right Now.

Given every opportunity
And every open-ended sentence
and shoulder shrug

I Have Many Marriages

We married each other in these places:

In my room.
In your mother's house.
In the grocery store.
At the bar when you made a tomato into a rose for me.
When we slept in the same bed and I dreamt of green grass on my grandmother's lawn (and it turned into a blanket and the voice said 'you're next')
When I received the mass card from your funeral.
When we made yams while millionaires worked for generic grocery companies.

Places are times, also.

The
Flux
Factor.

We married each other when I called the commissioner to find you.
When you brought me a bumper sticker from Belmore.
When you brought me a flashlight.
When I, the un-divine found you on the ether.
When I gave you the bird.

Azul.

When we were in on a lie together.

When we made aliases together.

When I said, "I waited all week for this."

When your father died.

When we made up dreams of the future together.

When I sang an Indigo Girls song to you.
When our hero left the planet.
When we spoke in vernacular.
When you got down on one knee and took my hand.

Not Hungry Amethyst Speaker Thirst Happy Cat

No Upanishads
No pink or elephant cups
No flirting
Just talk like sailors
And the ship sails on to a stagnant present
I saw the boy I broke
I saw the boy
I passed him a note
I told the waitress to take it to him
I stood while the bartender watched
but not inquisitively,
I wrote it against the orange wall
At the vegan cafe
I told the waitress I would be outside smoking if he wanted to discuss it
Fifteen years ago
When oil paint on paper grocery bags taped to the wall
of a junkie's house
was more alluring than
the art institute who said our portfolios had promise
What do you do now?
Something in galleries.
Business card
He dropped me off at that house
Just like my dad did
and the bus driver
and anyone I could get to drive me there
I was already Persephone
My love, my first wife,
wrote a poem in the ether
and wrote a poem every time I saw her with Jasmine
floating on the air all around her
as she made me lavender tea
There are some women you can never forget

Indeed

Per say

When we could only get married in Hawaii

He came outside after reading the note
It was a reunion
Anti-enthusiastic
The bartender, the scholar, the bachelor,
the boss, the poet, the man who wanted to separate from his wife,
we sat and watched as the world slowed down under the waning moon.