Yo Yo Yo Yo man dis bus be leavin’ at what time?…
the bus leaves at 11:45
well…let me get my samwhich and shit…
the bus leaves at 11:45….
I knows what you sayin’ but I’s got my shit ta take care of and whatnot….
the bus leaves at 11:45….
that all you say…motherfuckin bus leaves at 11:45?
no….I said….the bus leaves at 11:45….
you best be here when I come back bitch….
the bus leaves at 11:45….
man fuck you motherfucker….
the bus…..
out into darkness….
shadows of trees
Red Roof Inn… $36.99
splotches of red lights….
yellow lights too gaze steadily….
and the windsheild glistens….
gone are the neons…
the towers of corporate angst…
and hotel doormen whistling…..
the sign says caution…
orange…black…caution..
perhaps I should pay attention….
the humidity is the same as December’s in New York….air-conditioning in public libraries busted….large fans blowing and blowing and blowing…a hum through the air as Beckett reminds me of my childhood…my manhood….my life….
a constant search for voice.. in communities….countries….oneself….always crawling through the mud and briers…the sticky part…trying to go at it unabashed…reading for salvation..writing as a sacrifice….
to lay it all out in sentences with sweat being a key ingredient….to our honesty on the page…in our lives…when dealing with others…..do unto others….as you….that’s that….
the humidity is the same as December’s in this new York… this new paradise where feelings have been tossed around…. a toll on body ,soul…the grind must come to a screeching halt….all is diseased….
a witness to drug deals gone a foul…crack whores selling services to less savory suitors….and always money…money…money….the final cut…a dime owed is fought for with wisdom teeth being a promised prize…..
and away from here….to somewhere new…or old that is new….to old college greens and falls of leaves as girls in sweaters walk past carrying books by Fitzgerald….Williams’ poetry lingering on porch swings…..and beer cans tapped…
easy….just an easy life….maybe a film….an art gallery…a lecture on Ginsberg…or Dylan Thomas…..a Joni Mitchell album played on a Friday night….maybe a Tom Waits tune……I’m ready….
leave behind New York…just leave it and perhaps return again and again as I have always….or is this love affair finally over…..I don’t know…..I don’t know….I have no wife….only a mistress…..
the kid ate sprinkled ice cream in the kitchen while grown-ups talked behind a closed door…
what’s your name? the little girl asked, Anthony…and you? she began counting the colored dots, Kimberly…you can call me Kimmy, her plastic pink spoon was lifted high in the air….
okay Kimmy….is that good?, she nodded her head yes, I thought so….mom’s back in the room?, Kimberly shook her head yes and the music from behind the door was turned louder….
mommy gets mad a lot, the kid said, she’s always getting mad at me, twisted and turned in her seat, do you get mad?, I told her sometimes, mommy gets really mad…
a Bronx Puerto Rican accent could be heard from down the hall, more Papi….more…Come-on….give me more….
she’s gonna get mad, Kimberly put her nose in the purple chocolate filled cup, I know when it’s going to happen…..right ’bout now….
fuck you Papi…fuck you mother fucker….
see….I told you….she’ll be out here any minute now….
The white door swung open and a stale amonia haze came forth, Kimmy grab your coat….grab your fuckin’ coat…., the Jamaican followed the crack whore down the hall….both worn down from an hour of rock blasting…
they straggled the walls and each other…senses gone…or…maybe in overdrive….
goodbye Anthony, Kimberly said as she was grabbed, I waved slowly…..and said,…. goodbye to you too Kimberly…
she said, I can’t do this anymore, pointing at me; a dysfunction, a futile exercise….
what do you want….a divorce….I’ll give you a divorce….wait…just wait…
no, she warned, it’s done…can’t go back now….what’s done is done….I’m done….
I’ll leave tomorrow…
fine….
and I went back to bed….
so let me get this straight….you see somethin’….you want somethin’….you just take it….just take it….
He lit a smoke; last one in his pack; wadded up the Marlboro box, aimed and fired, Yes..that’s what I do…yes…
no remorse…no guilt…
some, He blew out a foggy patch, only some….but….not enough to stop, relaxed, rolling his head in a circle of darkened eyes, darkened hair, dark, dark, dark….
you work on inpulse…or…are these things planned….
depends….broad’s take plannin’….guys….they never see it comin’….right…
‘spose…plans for tonight….
rob a liquor store….you….?
get there before you….
…you don’t understand…Emma Goldman was a Nazi sympathizer….she supported…the ….
wait..wait…wait…what are you sayin’…..this is Emma Goldman we’re talkin’ here….fuckin’ Emma Goldman..
yeah….so….she was in love wit’ that German doctor….what’s his name…you know the one…wanted every kid aborted…
you’re crazy….
well you’re stupid….
Emma Goldman was a….
she was a self-hating Jew….trust me…
trust you….
yeah..trust me…..and pass the salt…
kids swagger up Bolton…jeans saggin’….hats cocked….makin’ Sharks-n-Jets look like nice boys…Cub Scouts of communities…
soon sun will fall and the trades begin, You sure you’re good Papi? No taste for nothin?, My head shakes no….respect….they give me….not asked twice….
and moonlight brings morons yellin’..howlin’…. fuck you’s at passers-by….loud speakers turnin’ out French Montana….bad sound effects and all….
it is the talk….the chatter….of wannabes and already are’s….those that deal and shake…and fake….while bein’ baked….
waitin’ on the sun to clear the deck…soon summer will come….soon….
then what’d we do?…..
….this Trump is a bad man, The Punjab said, terrible man….he has no ethics, toast was dipped in runny yolks…
…..what’d you mean, Rose slung another plate, This is America….he’s as ethical as the next guy, a check was turned facedown with a smiley-face circled….
I tell true story….I came here with nothing…amassed millions….home in Connecticut….two cars….real American wealth, a swig of joe, I did all this on principles…..
….yeah….what happened….
9-11happened…..lost everything, Rose poured Punjab more coffee, All gone…within minutes….
…..so what’d you do?…..
I go to friend…I tell him….loan me couple of grand….he does…., Rose cleared a table nearby, I take that money to Vegas….I meet beautiful woman there whose husband worked for mob guy, Another slurp of coffee, I tell her….loan me twenty grand….and if I die please forgive me….
…..she do it?….
24 hours later she give me two checks totaling forty grand, Rose shook her head, Why?…cause I am ethical….good things happen to ethical people….Trump….not ethical….
What?….what the fuck’s your story gotta do with any of this or that, Rose went through her check pad, You’re crazy Punjab…..
….yes….but ethical and on my feet again..
didja ever pay those people back?….
…..that would be un-American….I filed bankruptcy immediately….that is very American….
….whatever Punjab….
yeah…whatever….more coffee please…
there was a morn I wanted to wander…..solely….travels from east to west…with cities and sidebars.. hamlets ….romantic romps in piled dried leaves..golds…reds..yellows..my only friends in journeys across hurt land….
into a mountain’s bosom…..drinking cowboy coffee and taking-in greens and browns….old grays lingering from working days….talk of mending….one day….mending….
and there is frolic…gayity….ambiguous laughter in Northside neighborhoods as guns go pop to the South and West sides….1,000 murdered souls….all are guilty…from parents to patrol officers…city officials to gun dealers….to gang-bangers…to…ad nauseum….
jobs….jobs…jobs…dope deals under an arch…roulette down the street…and thefts of Swisher Sweets….the need for the dollar…the yelling…the screaming, “they killin’ our babies…they killin’ our babies….,” and where were you?….
no more…let me see no more…taken back to the leaf pile….to the colors….reds…golds….yellows…
maybe….trouble lurked there too…there is no certainty…not in a library…a school house….or….a gift from nature….
just stick a finger to the wind….and see where she blows….always seeking solace….always….
dmseay 