trenches…
put in trenches…
among the muck and mire…
watching rats scurry down tunnels…
and where were you old friend…
didn’t see you ’round…
enjoying the good life i see…
cakes an’ goodies…cakes an’ goodies…
i ‘member old times…
holidays an’ frolic…
yes…i ‘member…
now you’re on the inside…not me…not me…
trenches…
put in trenches…
among the muck and mire…
watching rats scurry down tunnels…
i’m writing from a far away place…
send help…
peace has set-in…
there are no gunshots…
sirens do not scream…
children in the streets do not yell…
i am a foreigner here…
this land of my youth…
left so long ago…
i have changed…
it has remained the same…
where is the conflict…
inside these safe and stable homes…
in SUV’ s…
someone is unhappy…
a father feeling neglected…
mother unloved…
child seeking solutions on a cellphone…
and i left for new adventures…
the cities of america…
done with suburban blues…
i’ve seen the grit and grime…
through dirty shards of glass…
i’ve seen america…
but…now…in this hour…
with porch-lights aglow…
dewy grass that shines in midnight’ s moon…
i see America…
i hear the rattles of air-conditioners…
the hum of suburbia…
it is safe…
too safe….
perhaps nowhere is safe…
papers thrown by a peddling paper-boy…
house-lights begin to come-on…
and it is morning in America…
goodnight…
and down the alley the dumpsters are filled…half eaten pizzas…empty beer bottles…used condoms from business transactions…
graffiti on brick walls dance in sunlight…a homeless guy picks up cigarette butts…,hey man…gotta light…
couples in vagabond fashions walk hand-in-hand past fire escapes and wadded newspapers with yesterday’s headlines…where are they going…
so i walk-on in the early morning breeze…as the Sun peaks through…moms pushing baby strollers…bicycles fly-by…and drifters cast for cash…
it is early morning…and i am alive…
she sat on the bus eating Vienna sausages from a can…unshavened…perhaps missed a few spots…smacking her lips loudly…taking-in one of the little potted meats at a time…every once in a while she looked my way…couldn’t catch her eyes…large dark sunglasses in the shape of butterflies hid secrets…
I told Tyrell I was done with him…,she spoke softly into her cellphone…,You tell him that I am done with his nigga ass…you hear me…,she sucked on another small sausage…making slurping sounds…swishing her blonde hair from side to side as she spoke louder…then louder…
no girlfriend…that boy has done hurt my feelings for the last time…you hear me…he want me to come back he better apologize to my white-ass…,again she looked my way…licked her red smeared lips and went back to yelling at the phone…
he want me for what girlfriend….for what…,her voice got soft again…,he can find himself another bitch to do that…I may be a hoe but I got my principles…,she lifted the empty tiny can to her mouth…,ummm-ummm…I know…I said I know…,she went-on…
that motherfucker can’t have me just whenever he feel like havin’ me now can he girlfriend…love is a two way street…I said a two way street…,tossed the blue wrapped meatpack down on the dirty black floor…
I said love is a two way street and that motherfucker Tyrell been goin one way in reverse for the longest damn time I’m sick of his black-ass…I can get myself done-up and find any man I want…that’s right…any man I want…,looking out the window past trailer parks…used car-lots…burned down buildings…old diners in a 60’s motief…
he said what…now I know you be lyin’…either you lyin’ or he be lyin’…girlfriend you know I be a freak in the sheets but you know he ain’t got to be tellin’ nobody my business…,pulled the cord above her shoulder…next stop was her’s…
uh-huh…,the back doors opened and she looked my way one last time with a lick of the lips…,shit…I be tellin’ that motherfucker somethin’…be tellin’ him somethin’…
just another bus ride through Wayndale…
i watch people in lines…
coffee shop lines…
bathroom lines…
ticket lines…
fast food lines…
day labor lines…
court house lines…
pharmacy lines…
branding lines…
social security lines…
unemployment lines…
wedding lines…
soup lines…
confessional lines…
funeral lines…
car wash lines…
check cashing lines…
Western Union lines…
communion lines…
check-out lines…
get in line…
traveled by foot…car…bus…trains all over this land of ours…through hamlets…small towns…ruined cities of old where men worked…kids played…kisses stolen in midnight hours…moms wept when boys came home and daughters gave birth to new generations all safely tucked away in craddles of hope…beds of promise…
New York to Fort Wayne through PA and Ohio i crossed…in search of america…this voice leading me past broken down factories…clogs in machines..into early morning coffee-shops with smokey brunette waitresses sharing dreams of theirs…fears…lives that happened along the way…
i wandered over mountains in West Virginia on Greyhounds going East…shut-down stores…abandoned cars…ambitions stolen…neon Pepsi signs glaring through foggy cool air…people in soup lines…labor lines…all wanting to be picked…all just wanting to be picked…black girls skipping rope in rusted parks….women hanging laundry in the dirty breeze…men chewing and spitting…chewing and spitting on sidewalks leading no-where…no-where…
saw Cincinnati ghettos late at night…whores trolling for prey…stripped bikes chained to light posts…shoes over wires…guns popping off rounds as wheels slowly roll and the boom boom bass of stereos in Chevys…Fords…old Dodges pass people who no longer run…no longer run…
Kentucky junkies in Covington…Newport…wandering ’round in a haze…strippers at the Brass Ass selling themselves to Mexican migrant workers waisting money on booze and tits…booze and tits…kids drinking craft beers…raising glasses to weekly sales quotas and cash prizes…
i’ve seen america…
i’ve seen america…
i’ve seen america…
talked to deadheads…Phish fanatics…pot growers united in Vermont on chilly nights while good girls and boys of Montpelier slept…dreaming of fall’s colors and wonders…quaint farmers markets…folk music played…a square dance danced…hands clapped and all was right with the world… right with the world…
sat on the shores of Lake Michigan…Chicago was a backdrop…a Northside and a South…white Chicago…black Chicago…gentrified Chicago…ancient Chicago…the Westside where sculpted Puerto Rican flags stand still…Polack diners…shrimp houses…Maxwell polish and Jewtown ain’t Jewtown no-more…gone…gone…gone…
and now we wait for the second coming…we wait for a resurrection…a rebirth…we wait…we wait…like old men with fishing poles…we wait…we wait…
i’ve seen america…
i’ve seen america…
i’ve seen america…
nocturnal…
why am i awake in the afternoon…
taking in Sun and gentle breeze…
all is too well…
no conflict…
nothing wrong…
everything’s in place…
i hate it…
go away…
this beautiful day…
be gone…
give me some grit and grime…
it’s just too nice…
too lovely…
where are my storm clouds…
come-on sky…piss on me…
oh well…
at least the Republicans are in charge…
Henry Miller…Jean Baudrillard…Charles Simic…The Holy Bible…all stacked neatly on a desk with James Joyce and Norman Mailer tossed aside…
on the nightstand sits Bukowski…more Joyce…a play by Mamet…journal entries of Shepard…pictures taken in Paris…
a pair of bi-focals…laundry detergent…cellphone charger…an empty wallet…lay on the counter…
copper mugs…coffee cup…wine glasses…loose change…tarnished pennies…a knife…sits on the bar…no vodka…nor whiskey…those we drank long ago…
old sheets from an old house shared…pillow to rest upon…an Amish quilt…it was comfort i always longed for…some kind of solace…
Unamuno on a leather ottoman…Tragic Sense Of Life…read for encouragement…kept close to the heart…
and there are bills…reciepts…Doctor’s appointments…reminders…see the shrink on Monday…Friday the thearpist…a zen buddhist later this month…calender marked…
but the walls are bare…paintings we collected in Quebec…New York…Chicago…gone…left behind for you to decide their fate…
old jazz albums sold to resale shops…traded in for midnight drinks…diners in Manhattan…gas in a tank…a used coat to keep me warm…
i hit the road 7 years ago when we parted ways…living the life of a vagabond…a gypsy…
homeless shelters…flop-houses…seedy motels…church basements…a Dodge Avenger…under trees in Central Park…bridges in Joplin, MO….these were dwellings in the dark of night…where i slept with one eye opened…where i dreamed with one eye closed…
on the nightstand sits Bukowski…more Joyce…a play by Mamet…journal entries of Shepard…pictures taken in Paris…
now it is 2 in the morning…i write from a rented room i call home…home…home…
this is home…
sitting alone as rain falls…
looking out windows…
smeared by teardrops from the sky…
night’s darkened hours…
lights on utility trucks blink on and off…
puddles are gathering…
thinking of the last time we made love…
shadows cast upon walls…
it rained that night too…
and winds howl…
as they have before…
for they shall howl again…
in that deep night…
when we made love…
what a marvelous storm…
sitting alone as rain falls…
looking out windows…
smeared by teardrops from the sky…
i’ve missed the rain…
autumnal hues longed for…
colors woven…
life in death…
firey reds…
golds…
deep blood orange…
and Vermont was my home…
a Dodge was my house…
parked on a dead-end street…
night-air cool blown from Canada’s Quebec…
a belly never filled…
thoughts always racing…
and the gas tank was empty…
pockets inside-out…
thousand miles away…
autumnal hues longed for…
colors woven…
life in death…
living on French-fries…
cups of coffee gratis…
kind words…
i miss you…
our impoverished affair…
dearest Vermont…
mountains and rivers…
chapped lips wanting to be kissed…
fall days…fall days…leaves were our blankets…
let me return…
lay by your side…
this i beg…
renew our love…
your warmth…given freely…
one with you Vermont…to be one with you…
i shall come…
bringing a bouquet…
look for me at summer’s end…summer’s end…
autumnal hues longed for…
colors woven…
life in death…
dmseay 