I would like to see
The year 1998
From where I am now
I would like to see
The year 1998
From where I am now
right in front of me
i watched a man pull pepsi;
half drank; from garbage.
and i thought how we think we’ve all been there.
to justify the sight of melancholy.
half smoked butts, or bowls,
or a pair of jeans all week:
for week on week on week.
or hoping things are better today.
walking to the store,
with no money for gas.
or preferring black coffee:
haven’t fit milk in the budget for months.
pretending you can
sympathize with other lives
that face true hardship.
or watching the birds of the balcony,
seeing things are better today.
she spoke in cursive.
speaking softly. word to word.
she spoke in riddle.
he said, “she’s a Gemini.”
I’m a Cancerous old man.
like a junkie
all my energy leaves me
3 hours after I wake.
I’ve read the things you’ve written,
not to say I don’t like them,
just not what I usually read.
I ate 3 eggs for breakfast,
12 oz steak twice in 12 hours.
and not to say I know what I’m doing,
but I’m finding I’m capable at quite a few things.
Gonna try and make it to San Diego in two years,
get on that house boat and float around a while.
Some say money is trouble,
do things to help others –
I only think of myself.
Save another hundred,
pay some loans ,
do what I want.
I use to read these poems.
I use to when I was 14,
give or take,
lots of punctuation,
I use to think someday things would just go as planned,
I use to plan,
I use to plan to much.
I use to write everyday,
Now I’m not even writing.
I woke up and laid in bed,
writing in my head.
Sentences explaining love made and love lost,
girls who I knew and have forgotten and
explanations for the reasons I do the things I do,
(and the things I do not do anymore).
I woke and walked downstairs to get coffee and
to further expand the ideas in my head.
I had a smoke and the writings began to leave my head.
The ideas explaining my generation –
what I at least thought I knew of my generation.
I thought harder.
I remembered a girl who had thin lips and another who
had dark hair and thin hips.
I remember a kid who lit my shoes on fire and
a kid who’s eye I hit with a black walnut.
I showered and forgot more.
I grabbed my pad and headed to the library to try and
get these ideas out before they left.
and the church bell rang,
and the church bell hit the wrong note.
and I forgot.
sort of attitude only
results in question
“I guess the difference is in that of a whistle pig and a woodchuck”
, I said, “that’s a bullhead and a catfish.”
Graceland played while I looked at Brahma steel toe
and I thought of the McCandless quote about
mans spirit coming from new experiences.
and when I hear that Hollingsworth track,
“up over the hills ain’t even really that far”
I think of how coasts and inland smell different.
Vedder wants a last breathe that he won’t let out
which I get but there are guys who just want to keep breathing.
So I picked my car up in the morning, humming,
“I”m going to Graceland, Graceland”
and I packed for Brookville, Brookville,
and I burned CD’s for the drive,
thinking I’m bound singing to Graceland.
I did 80 to Clarion wondering what I’d eat for dinner,
thinking of the day before, doing 60 down 219 into PA,
wondering the same thing.
And when I woke up I did calisthenics and
pulled a muscle in my thigh a little,
and had bad powder eggs and a high toasted bagel.
sometimes I find myself not liking what I wrote,
I change it.
I got lost in Clarion and thought about dinner.
I notice myself wondering how far I will go.
My fortune cookie said,
“Everything is possible;
just not so probable.”
and I guess that’s pretty true.
The best part about is driving is just going and going and not thinking about anything in between but what’s in your line of vision and a full tank. So you go on and on and stop in from town to town but for the most part you just have lots of thinking time. Luckily you got Howlin’ Wolf on CD and 10 tracks to go.
I really made it to Pennsylvania,
embracing the knowledge in trucks.
So I parked in the bank parking lot and walked down the the street corner, one big Brahma step at a time. I opened the glass door and 34 heads all confused on who disrupted their card game turned. I walked through them, toward the back of the room and looked for someone who looked in charge. I knocked on the fridge behind me and heard a “Hello!”. A filthy old man showed himself and he knew I was not from town.
Flew up on 66 N in a little snow storm and got home for a two day stay not long before midnight.
I woke up and thought it was Sunday.
There’s no brakeman slowing down,
just whole and oholy luck that I’ll stay on track.
accidentally gave the waiter a two twenties on a $25 bill,
thought it was a ten.
Lou Reed, Tom Waits, Lord Buckley,
gotta get the coffee ready for morning.
I sleep with the fan on high.
Might have got a fiber glass sliver at work.
training for the future,
invent it then manifest it.
this locals dog pissed in the front of the shop today.
I broke the tire shop padlock.
this professional driver knowledge is getting the best of me,
got 6 oil related hats and was excited.
I know trucks past ’07 more than likely to have synthetic differential fluid than older models and a mudflap can ruin a drivers payload.
itching to get a drink.
I know what a drivers face looks like
when his hood falls off his tractor.
I know I really couldn’t call people all day.
I know $1.50 a week/unlimited coffee is a deal.
Sat and watched the waves hit the shore from the third floor balcony
of the beach house, wondering where the clam was that I tossed back in from
the shore. The rain pounded the bay window from the couch within, four feet up
on the coffee table.
my friend said once, “I’ve been working. I get to see the sun rise everyday. I think that’s pretty cool.”
I thought that was pretty cool.
we had talked and talked deep brooding thoughts before,
as some people talk and talk deep brooding thoughts.
but this off the sleeve comment really showed just how delicate life can be.
It’s strange stepping back out of town and watching it from a distance.
I told them, “that’s something I take real serious”
and they believed me. Wild.
I made it home and sat on ideas for two weeks,
I just want to sit with four feet on a coffee table and breath in unison.
prose or poems.
o’holy find love!
move toward a goal.
what was that she said?
drugs. drugs. drugs.
what did I say to you?
I miss the mother and son who sat behind me, my seatmate, the comfort.
No one makes noise from Roc to Cuse. The Lady who took my seat eats
crackers quietly and rubs her finger tips in the aisle. She flips vanity fair reading
the ads and plows another cracker into her beaked face.
15 minutes till noon, when I’ll allow myself to start drinking the booze I brought along in my bag.
9-10 more hours until Boston. I bought the ticket, I’ll take the ride.
she refuses to
hold conversation. I hope
they sell bottled wine.
All stops went quick, hoping to get into Boston early. Slept from Albany to Schenectady.
Too many hits of tequila in the bathroom. Just left Springfield, headed toward Wooster.
Had noodles and coffee to burn off some liquor. Both were terrible.
Dinner lady, forty something, black and from Chicago.
Hope to find a sandwich shop in Portsmouth and a good coffee and maybe flowers.
I want time to sit and enjoy a Marlboro.
I want to go to
Pennsylvania to find the
knowledge of truck stops.
An Empyrean Cycle
Poetry, Photography and Random Thoughts of Life
My thoughts, my words and the story of my life.
I aim to bring delight to others by sharing my creative endeavours
Words of Wonder, Worry and Whimsy
Smexy Historical Romance
Musings of an Aspiring Author and Poet
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