dmseay

i have been in Arkansas..Tennessee..Indiana..Ohio..Pennsylvania..Texas..California..Colorado..Minnesota..Paris..New York..Vermont..Illinois..Michigan..D.C. ..Virginia..West Virginia..Florida..Georgia..Arizona..Quebec..Ontario..Maine..Massachusetts..Maryland..the outer reaches of Hell..St. Thomas..Nebraska..Kansas…Missouri..Psych-wards…churches…taverns…temples..all over…

without maps…directions…no globe…nor Atlas…nothing…just movement…always moving…

to what…another chance…always another chance…even when chances were slim…

the constant search for faith..love…shelter..a soul mate..peace…

and this is what eludes us…a peace…found in jesus..Buddha…the teachings of St. Thomas…grains of sand turned upside down…a child’s birthday…not much is required…

so we say goodbyes…bus tickets bought…book-bags stuffed…leaving yet again…and probably again…

looking for nothing more than a voice…this barely audible voice that wants to yell-out…

HELP…HELP…

yet help will not be found…cannot be found…because all was searched…backtracked…gone- over..time and time again…

..never within…never within…

walking paths of Central Park in November… Coltrane blows notes among nature in reds…golds…and browns…i am at peace…

leaves change…do people…do people…moving air with calloused hands as i stride…pushing-down…away…self-doubt…rage…hate…it is gone…took so long…too long…

on an autumn day…streaming sun touching…face aglow…shhh…a wholeness has begun…come with me…

packages of new this November…new warmth in chilled-air… new friendship with an old friend…to start…not again…just start…

appreciating the moment…nothing for granted…we have so little time…

yes…soon winter will call…

if you seek-out normalcy…a solid career path on this commerce paved super-highway called America…then don’t write…

a want of security…toast-n-honey at midnight in a breakfast nook after making love to a wife while kids sleep down the hall in a safe and stable home…then don’t write…

cars that get good gas mileage in the city and highway…a Sunday suit to wear at church…eternal optimism now and forever…an ability to ignore the fall of Rome…then don’t write…

Mike Ramirez once told me in a Chicago bar with pictures of Joyce and Beckett on the walls…,David…you won’t write anything ever worth a shit ’til you’ve suffered…

man was he right…

she was at the wake…

my wake…

yes…

and…she didn’t like the jazz that played as people walked-by you…said she never liked the jazz…more of a rock-n-roll broad…

right…i always knew that…did she come with anybody…someone new…

no…I think she respected…I’m sure she did…

yes…that sounds right…

we spoke briefly…said she liked your poetry…writing…said you were a kind soul…

that’s good…very good…

you miss her…

i do…

this is not a pleasant place…it’s not nice…nor quaint…it is fuck me fuck you get outta my way and don’t even think about it…

they’ll stab ya’ for a buck left in food stamps…for a cell-phone…a $5 pair of earplugs…just keep to yourself…better-off that way…

you trust no-one…

yes…I trust no-one…not family…not friends…there are no allies…just mere people coming-in and out of our lives for a single purpose…take what they mother-fuckin can then leave before the cops show…right…

that’s not the America I know…

well..this is practiced in homeless shelters…prisons…large corporations…university English departments…children on playgrounds…I got what I got and I’m taking your’s…hand-it over…it is our cancer…

you’ve seen the underbelly…

all of us have…

I haven’t…

don’t be so sure…there are things we erase…get-rid-of…too much…and that’s when it gets dangerous…

how…

the guard is dropped…you’re wide open for the left hook…and this is America…this is our lineage…

it is not romantic…you want that…rent-a-movie…meanwhile…I deal with the present…the present…’cause that’s all we have…

had this one job…years ago..

yea…

concrete…breakin’ it up…throwin’ it over the side of a truck…sweatin’ my balls-off…

O.K. ..

every Friday… every week I’d have to go find this guy to get paid…

I know the deal…

went to bars…strip clubs…fuckin’ trailer parks in Joliet…

jesus…

and for what…for what…

for what…

$200…$200 for bustin’ my ass all week…$200…and i gotta find ’em…

right…

so…one night…couldn’t…couldn’t find the no-good  cocksucker…nowhere…poof…

and…

looked the whole weekend…the whole week…nothin’…

gave-up…

yes…gave-up…but…mother-fuckers like this always fuck-up…always…

you found him…

yes…and business was taken care-of…

he paid you…

oh no…no tab was collected…this thing was done…

thing…done…

he won’t be able to talk again…

what…

I made it so he can’t speak…I ripped his fucking tongue out of his Goddamn head with a pair of pliers I had on me…

he call the cops…

how…he can’t talk…what’s he gonna say…ffllaaaghaa ffglllaaa…mish-mosh bullshit…no-one can understand the guy…I did the world a favor…

jesus…couldn’t you’ve just got the money from him…

oh no…no…this was much more satisfying…much more…

uh…

well…cheers… 

after weeks…maybe months…or years…you awaken to possibilities…leaving doubt behind…pulling the thorn from a side… wounded by addiction…money… lack of love…senseless acts…you decide to move-on…

and the walk begins slowly…coming-out of fetal positions…bouts of crying…suffering for what…fools…yes… fools…

walking becomes you…the body now begins to strengthen…straighten…this gait is a glide…an effortless stroll to the next stop along the way…the next stranger… next friend…lover…souls alike…these will be found…and you will no longer be alone…

all because you decided to get out of bed…

and i drove ’round…

’round town…

yes…’round town…looking…

for what…

what…

I said for what…

a woman…always a woman…

yep…we’re good at that…drivin’ you crazy…

yes…yes…

didja find her…

no…everytime a black van would approach me i’d look to see if it was her…

black van…

yes…that’s what she drove…looked in front of bars…shopping malls…the Kroger store where we used to buy wine…get eight and there’s a discount…

couldn’t find her uh…

no…saw old men in fishing-caps with cigarettes dangling from their lips…soccer moms drivin’ kids ’round…teens out on dates in dad’s black van…not her though…she wasn’t there…

you decided to stop lookin’….

yes…yes…

shit’ll drive you to an early grave…

i’ve heard that…yes…

wanna buy me a drink…

i gotta’ be goin’…

goin’ out there to look for that black van uh…

yes…yes…

what’re you doin’…put the phone down…you keep checking it every other minute…waitin’ for somethin’…an instant message from some broad…trust me…you ain’t the only one in her pool…put the phone down and focus…said focus you fuckin’ Millennial…you sensitive feminine hygiene product…I’m gonna tell you for the last time and then I’m gonna’ give you a beatin’…got it…

hell…go see what grandma’s doin in the kitchen…waste of time…

it is back to the road in search of Whitman…Kerouac…and… Dean Moriarty…

in and out of fact…around the corner from fiction…what is real…that which is imagined…drunken fits and bongo hits along a trail hiked only by poets…

madmen and prophets…sifting through tealeaves to tally-up a future’s promise…don’t count on it…

looking and listening to America…staring her right in the face and calling Liberty’s bluff…the odds are never good…

sleeping in rooms rented out by the week…no need for lawn-care…hedges never trimmed…a place to rest bones and boasts…words placed on pages at two in the morning with noises of children at play…walking home from bars and diners where 6 egg omlettes were eaten and coffee was slurped…

letters sent to old girlfriends…old allies…old old old…all that was done away with yet still haunts when lonesome…and…it is always lonesome…

it is back to the road in search of Whitman…Kerouac…and Dean Moriarty…

my life has begun…