dmseay

saw you at the library….
looking at Tom Clancy books…
John Grisham…
browsing in shit….

stuck-out like lavender…
emerald eyes…
black ink hair….straightened i believe…
a pink sweater….

was looking at pics of John and Tom….
what dashing literary heroes…
John…the warm southern air…
Tom…that tough fighting fuck…

caught you red-handed…
cheating on me…
thought you were better than that….
what have they got…

i’m onto you…
don’t buy another book….
take my pictures down…
these bedtime stories are over…

see ya’ ’round kid…
and when John drops you like a hot southern yam….
Tom tells you he needs more fight….something…kinky…
don’t come to my little shop of whores…

this is not right…

what…

this deal…lack of negotiation…

no-one talks anymore…

right….blah blah this…blah blah that…

in the form of a text…

yes…bingo…like we’re hiding…

correct….hiding…from truth…fears…love….anger…ourselves…

yes…and…yes…that is the point…we hide from ourselves…

words can lie…

right…a face…

can tell it right off the bat…the get-go….

and…

that is that…

yes…this is business…

text…email…notes…a memo…

nothing concrete…

all suspect…

yes…

yes….

so…

what choice…

drop it…

drop it…

yes…make this go away…

how….

turn off the phone…

turn off…

yes…the phone…

and…

disappear…

just disappear….

uh huh…

be gone…

O.K. …

now…this is done…

yeah….

next client…

tis dark…
6 a.m. …
only a streetlamp shines…
red tail-lights float-by…
sound of a car starting with a voice saying…,fuck it’s cold….

hear cars drive up and down a two way street…
gravel crackles in driveways…
a cat cries out…
dumpster lids are flipped in the wind…
my phone has not rung…

and all night the sounds of the city rushed through my rented room…
cop cars…
ambulances…
fire trucks….but not your voice….

then there was silence…
nothing…
no sound…
too quiet….
come-on phone….ring….

tis dark…
6 a.m. …
only a streetlamp shines…
sound of a car starting with a voice saying…,fuck it’s cold…

watched the old man stumble…
tripping over barking dogs…
feet swollen…
shit-stained boxers…

he mumbled…
something about pain…
always hurting…
complaining…

all alone…
sun hidden…
a can of Pepsi…
pissed-on pads…

and i remember thinking…
don’t let this happen to you…
avoid the unavoidable…
just pull the trigger…

getting soft…
hit the road….
amongst vagabonds…
whores…
cops on the take…
garbage men at dawn…

Greek diners at 3 a.m. …
guys with a watch to sell…
pushers and pimps…
flashing neons…
hustlers making eyes…
a well-groomed businessman…

Lexington Avenue…
Punjab palaces…
buffets in cellars…
kids on cells making transactions…
crazies killing time….
gotta light…

stealing sugar packets at Starbucks…
figuring out bathroom codes…
stalls with holes…
peek-a-boo-i-see-you…..
commerce commerce commerce…
america’s shining light…

getting soft…
hit the road…
amongst vagabonds…
whores…
cops on the take…
garbage men at dawn…

gunshots…
shelters…
parking garages…
alleys…
Central Park…
Port Authority…

a bench by the Hudson…
East River…
Union Square…
Madison Square…
a junkie is a junkie is a junkie is a junkie…
city take me in…

less comfort…
more writing…
starve awhile…
lose this flesh…
scrape your knuckles…
beware of the boys in blue…

getting soft…
hit the road…
amongst vagabonds….
whores…
cops on the take…
garbage men at dawn….

I’m tellin’ ya they was joined at the heads…

no dad…

yea…mom had twins an’ they both died at birth…

you sure pop…

there were two seperate headstones…

uh huh…

two seperate caskets…

didn’t know ‘ bout this….

no…wait…thats not right…

what then….

there were twins…an’ one had too weak a heart to survive…only Johnny Ray lived…

no dad…

yea…thats what happened….

no pop….Johnny Ray was born alone….it was just Johnny Ray….wasn’t a twin…

I’m sure…

mom had one stillborn…that was it…all I knew about…

boy…there’s some things you don’t know…

that may be pop….that may be…

hold on…she had triplets…an’ two was joined at the head…

dad…

an’ Johnny Ray was the lone survivor….

O.K. pop….O.K. ….

I only speak the truth….where is mom…

she’s gone dad…

you don’t say…

yep….

she done joined them two up in heaven….

trashcans opened up and down the street…
madmen seeking shelter….
heat rising from the underbelly of the city…
while spells are cast upon those unaware…

they who walk this town from sun-up to sun-down…
seeking refuge in abandoned cars…all night bus services…subway trains rattle off rails to a beat…beat…beat…
under trees in Central Park we lay in await of you dear policeman…come…carry us away to cell number 6….a holding tank will do just fine…

and the Port Authority bustles with hookers…hustlers…petty thieves….pedestrians…panty sniffers….Jerseyites drunkenly running to a train they’ll never catch…
while tourists drink craft beers…take-in lights cameras actions of those that dare to glare into the midnight sky high above in search of what…what….
perhaps a piece of peace….maybe a snowflake to tease the tongue….or maybe a god to call them home…

but there is no home….no hope…
just the rummaging of trashcans opened up and down the street…
madmen seeking shelter….
heat rising from the underbelly of the city…
while spells are cast upon those unaware….

an old plaid couch…
clay pitchers upon cabinets…
paintings of farm houses…
a pie safe…

olive hat bought in Switzerland…
Amish quilts…
Ball glass jars of blue…
packets of yeast…

rusted sausage grinder…
wooden benches…carved-in detail…
bacon drippings collected…
grandfather clocks…a cuckoo…

cast-iron skillets…
boxes of Jiffy cornbread mix…
Yankee candles…
black-n-white photos…

where’d she go…

transcended pop…

transcended….

yes…

to where…

don’t know…

don’t know…

no dad…

she’s not in back getting dressed…

‘fraid not…

just as well…

yea…

she hated clothes…

wooden boxes stacked…
old crates…
brass lamps…
a husband…

tattered garages line the alley…
backs of houses…chipped paints of blue…white…gray…brown…
better days these buildings have seen…some boarded-up…windows replaced with plywood…doors with legal notices attatched…DO NOT ENTER….

drooping power-lines blow in the wind…
scattered tree-limbs…clumsy debris…chocolate bar wrappers…ATM reciepts…needles in haystacks….
homeboys march up and down the block in purple hours under a waxed moon’s haze…wandering streets with a purpose…to sell….steal….kill….
3 boys murdered execution style…line ’em up….

car- windows broken….
hubcaps stolen off a Mercury….abandoned bikes…left-overs to be picked through…
bums finding cans…bottles….half smoked ciggies….

and i watch….i watch it all go-down every night…
whores…crackheads…pushers…junkies….blacks and whites scrounging for fuel….
something to keep them going….
McDonald’s opened 24 hours….fillet-o-fish 2 for $4….
change scrapped -for….begged- for…fought -for….

forgive us of our sins…
forgive those who tresspass against us…
lead us not into temptation….
give us this day our daily bread…

for this was once a kingdom….
was once…
a kingdom…

doughnuts and meatloaf…
Pepsi..
cup of joe…

big Mike talks ‘ bout the drive into Chicago…
waitress tugs on her long blonde hair….
pop asks for catsup…

and the Wednesday special is Swiss steak…
Bill says save ‘ em a piece…
Bobby takes another nitro…another nitro…

note to self…
spring in 15 days…
get outta’ this town…

go west…
head east…
just leave…

this diner will be here…
be here…
when you return…when you return…