Philadelphia Sketches

venus she says silly sally squeezing in stepping up to the bar venus she says to the wonkish willing to please combo meal well-groomed properly scruffy self-proclaimed mixologist of libations loving and lustful

venus she says

while i come in on the tail end of the chit the chat she is ordering she is suggesting she is querying the menu she is eyeing the list of drinks the top shelf

oh she is oh so top shelf alighting as she has in a top shelf over the top vegan ristorante in center city such brotherly love baby i’ll be your brother i’ll be your kissing cousin i’ll be your dog on a leash down at the meeting house i’ll be all ben franklin dirty old man send off my kite into the lightening storm see what strikes my poor richard key

venus she says

yes i do yes i do like it spicy

oh goddamn she be coy

glance tossed over the shoulder coy a little wiggle and giggle coy coquettish coy kittenish coy

that eddies about the room swirling swoon and song and chimera of fred and ginger slip sliding tip tapping frisking frolicking we fall all over ourselves getting out of their way they sweep the room in ghostly gaslight

tap tap tap

even our hooch honcho willy wonka wearing white with black bowtie badly our connoisseur of cocktail our aleman with attitude even he falls he falls over his bottles all neatly arranged in front of the engraved mirror imprinted with a menagerie of baroque curlicues and spiraling whorls and the name not of this bar but perhaps the name of some bar

lost in the past
lost in space
lost in time

back in some story perhaps rooted in the ledgers of ben and the founding fathers those wig wearing whiteboys with wooden choppers

sanded stained varnished

a little sparkle when the sun shines

perhaps the owners simply had it made up down at the custom glass shop down in god’s pocket give the place that little bit of comme ci comme ca let les patrons think what they may what they don’t know won’t hurt them

what they don’t know
what they don’t know

is just a shout away

he our brave bartender he falls over his feet we fall out of our seats the door falls out into the street letting in a cool january breeze

clouds and all

is just a kiss away

and venus she

white bird in a golden cage

alone

venus she

slowly exhales through pursed lips that one demurely diffident eyebrow still arched a fine questioning mark atop hipster-cum-librarian narrow dark rimmed glasses

poised

a deliberate dramatic pause

then

venus she says

i like it spicy but only if you impress me

glancing left glancing right as she speaks ensuring she is noticed she is quite noticeable ensconced in her youngish wharton b-school starched white blouse unbuttoned down to where it’s too classy for cleavage where we all want to be but just can’t find the bus stop

and we just know there is lace down there we just know that lace pervades lace delicately and delightfully denouement

her long and dark silhouette dark raven dark straight hair pulled back so tight into a pony tail that i can easily simply reach out and

grab it
wrap it

around about my wrist yank it back jump on board this overly feminized equus dig in my spurs and still have enough slack left to use the tail as a crop as a whip

leaving pink stripes and hunger

upon what i know on what i can so easily picture imagine sketch a la police artist sitting at the desk with fountain pen and ink are such firm alabaster buttocks

which are right now held firm by this oh so tight pencil skirt projecting proposing such a perfect heart shape callipygian dollop i could i should simply take knife to fork scoop in my spoon hell simply tie a napkin about my chin tie my hands behind my back blindfold myself kneel at the gate of our madonna

swing low sweet chariot baby i got your spice i am your fire your desire your pepper poppin’ prole your piquant picante plebe

put me under lock and key keep me behind cyclone fence come out in the early morning pick a peck of pickled peppers go all locust on my bush strip me bare of all my fruit

oh my sweet’n’low succubus simply show up and swarm me

i’m so willing to impress

come on take a nibble on my pomiculture suck on my seed nibble on my zesty nut i will dazzle i will inspire i will take away your breath with my wasabi whistle white boy wit and wisdom

i will shimmy shimmy shuffle do the hip shake do the snoopy tiptoe dance across your thighs

steam coming out of your ears all bugs bunny like it’s shift change down at the plant down at the factory

love and rockets sugar we’re a hollywood story

john smith and pocahontas
heathcliff and catherine
jett and leslie
tony and maria

we’re never gonna have it we’re never gonna make it work i will sell my fresh new suits on the streets of paris whilst you sell yourself

i will stand in the streets beneath the streetlight and scream for stella

and you will finish your drink you will dab at your lips with a fine linen handkerchief you will give me a grin and a wink you will walk back across the tracks and i can only hope that you will perhaps perhaps give me a backward glance

philadelphia sketches and all that

Singin' Dem Prednisone Blues

goddamn goddamn

tick fucking tock

long breath drawn between pursed lips puckered lips

slow deliberate controlled

one two three
one two three
one two three

one two

one

tick fucking tock

it's two fucking thirty in the morning

i'm wackenroid awake and I can see the cracks in my face showing through the silhouette sliding across the wall not unlike the rat eluding

riki tiki tavi

i can count the cracks

but get caught on three get stuck on three

one two three
one two three
one two three

one two

one

tick fucking tock

i know it's a drug driven manic state of mind that is keeping me out here on my tippy toes on the curb six inches above the road might as well be six feet sixty feet i might even have sixty feet and three hundred toes

goddamn my skin it do crawl

fire ants crawling all over biting my balls nipping my neck ripping my throat

creepy crawly wiggle waggle aluminum foil on the molars oh momma open up a window i can’t breathe don’t you know momma told me not to come

a drug driven manic state of mind that is my own personal combo meal nails screeching down the blackboard with a healthy helping of hellacious heat on

creativity real or manufactured

it doesn't matter as it

this creativity

this faux feeling of invulnerability this exuberance this need to pick up the brush to slide the pen between my fingers to grab scissors and white pasty glue and colored construction paper and poster board and old magazines and photos of worlds past and even of worlds to come

to become the edward fucking van gogh scissorhands of this new century

having just cut off my own fucking ear

and yet i’m still a simple schmuck that just can't seem to burrow up through this depression this heavy blanket of loneliness this desperation this edge of the ledge this plastic bag over the head

one breath at a time one at a time

there are precious few remaining

and still unable to get to the other side still not enough time never enough time a bog so mucky and thick and sucky and slick and my shoes get stuck with a schlurp schlurp and a burp such a trudge to budge only inches at a time

a dog paddle against a chilly current and i just never seem to get there

all the while wondering

where she is

that doubt

that questioning

it isn't here

why am i denied her breath her breathing her rhythm

fuck my body
then fuck my heart
with a simple morning smooch
a ta ta la de da and
a promise to see me later in the week

perhaps perhaps

later in my life

perhaps perhaps

oh god such busy lives such here there everywhere such hokey fucking pokey put your left foot in take your left foot out put your left foot in and you shake that bitch all about

god is looking down from his perch up on high his oh so fucking superior perch his crag his cranny up above us all he is watching me but i don’t care i don’t fucking care

god is watching me but i don’t care

shoo fly
pudding pie
make ‘em cry
i don’t care just get me high

get me high
take me higher
fuck yeah
spin me around
spinning wheels take me to town
bring me home
leave me alone
close my eyes

oh shoo fly i ain’t shy i ain’t afraid to fly take me into orbit let me hook my fingers into your belt loops

got it
got it
got it

tight

take off let’s take off

to the moon

to the moon with you alice to the moon maybe more maybe beyond through the clouds above the clouds touch the sun grab the lightening bolt from old zeus himself tame the flame

i burn for you

let’s talk fire let’s talk of flames inside outside flames oh flames no flames lick ‘em click ‘em flick ‘em walking through the fiery blazes of hell itself

fuck you oprah and your little fire walking with celebrity gurus you're the biggest fucking pollyanna pussy foot i ever did see

let me talk fire let me talk hot let me talk cock hard steel rod hard glistening porn movie hard ron jeremy monster hard takes two hands to handle a whopper hard

fuck yeah

let’s talk of fire

god is watching but i don’t care

i don’t fucking care the clock tick fucking tock it does tick it do tock the second hand it sweeps it races it runs it does yes it does it hums round and round and around

fuck fuck fuck

the heart my heart my broken heart it races as it bleeds my head my spinning head it races these thoughts these theologically lucid thoughts they sweep they run they race my eyes my baby browns they sweep they run they race they blink they blitz they stare they look away they stare they look away

goddamn these nostrils they flare the love it burns like gonna-fucking-rea

but still this love it burns for you

i can count the bricks in the wall count the cracks in the ceiling count the cracks in my face count the specks of dust dancing in the moonlight bursting through the open window count the fleeting moments

one two three

the hairs on my arm stand tall the hairs on the back of my neck stand tall my fucking pubic hairs they stand tall

body electric
mind electric
stun gun baby

tell me tell me tell me no don’t tell me

just lie to me

speak to me with forked tongue signal right go left cut a fucking donut three sixty seven twenty fourteen forty twenty eight eighty fuck me with a frenzy until i’m numb to it all

tell me tell me tell me no don’t tell me i don’t want to know i just need to go i don’t care i just need to know

to stare into the fire

mesmerized

see no evil hear no evil speak no evil

there is no such thing as pain

reach out reach into the flames lap at the flesh let’s blow it up let’s blow it out let’s catch it let’s catch it let’s wake up and piss the world is on fire and we can’t do a thing about it

goddamn goddamn wake up and piss the world is on fire rip off your panties boil some water make me some tea bend you over the desk fuck you with the frenzy reserved for those special moons full moons dangerous moons oh

lawdy lawdy

oh

run run run
we gotta get out of here
run run run
we gotta escape from the burning building nero play your fiddle rome is on fire and no one cares

step on a crack break your mother’s back i don’t care my momma’s dead i don’t care my daddy’s dead i think that there are parts of my soul dead and buried

and god is watching and i don’t care

resurrect me redefine me right is left wrong is right the dick is limp loose is tight god ain’t watching tonight

traffic lights go red

go red
go red

i don’t care four hundred twenty seven cubic inches of fire breathing sword in the stone sword in the heart hari kari the belly spill the guts until death do us part

supuku for your love

slice dice mince meat i hate meeses to pieces let us pray

oh goddess take this bloody heart catch it on fire four and twenty black birds screaming four twenty seven vroom vroom screech gimme a tank of white gas fuck these traffic lights hurts my motor to go so slow look left look right i could fuck you all night write a verse write a song i could fuck you all life long

but when
but when
but when
does it all end

a dick in the hand is worth two in the bush

but when
but when
but when
does it all end

my daddy
he’s seen the end
my momma
she’s seen the end

my world
my world
please please
redefine my world

put up the walls break down the walls press the plunger let’s blow this fucker down let’s blow this fucker to the ground back to the stone age baby i’ll grab you by the hair drag you into my cave drag you down the highway kicking and screaming

where am i

burning in cairo
burning in beijing
burning in kingstown
burning in bombay
burning burning
burn baby burn
the smell of singed hair the malodorous aroma of kiln fired skin blackened honky party and play got nothing on me let’s burn this fucker to the ground i will write your love into my book i will carve my name onto the back of your throat with my cock i will write your love into my book i will burn the book i will fill ‘er up check the oil check the water check the air in the tires don’t put up no stop signs baby i ain’t got no time there ain’t no roses there ain’t no rhyme i ain’t got no rhythm i ain’t got no music all i got all i got is a pack of matches and a gallon of gasoline it's all i can do to make the scene my money it ain’t dirty my money it ain’t clean but baby but baby my money it do be green

god is watching and i don’t care

delilah she say to samson she say cut off all your hair

pack of matches
fire it up
fire it up
snap crackle pop
shizzle zizzle sizzle

i’m screaming
no such thing as pain
baby
i’m screaming
out of control

pack of matches
fire it up
fire it up
four twenty seven gots to get down the road fill ‘er up drill ‘er down ratchet shifter redneck ride bubba tee you can’t hide when i’m sad i slide

when i’m sad i slide

donnez-moi une autre demitasse due petite café s’il vous plait

yeah

shoo fly
shoo fucking fly

shoo these fucking plans these visions of the future where is the now where is the here such plans such silly little plans are so tomorrow

shoo fucking fly

such plans assume there’s a way to the other side that there is more than a flimsy rope bridge over this chasm between love and belief between loneliness and captivity

one side holds such firm belief that the bridge will weather the storm weather the years we’ll traipse back and forth it’s sturdy it’s strong it don’t swing in the wind

one side tsk tsk looking at the frayed hemp rope that is my isolation that is my desperation that

yes

may indeed be fueled by these maddening additives they put in coffee these days may indeed be fueled by the prescription drugs anti-depressant anti-histamine anti-diluvia anti-christ

antidisestablishmentarianism

let me sing these prednisone blues

such a nasty drug these thoughts this faux adrenalin that deny me the escape of sleep that soma path to a temporary purge of you the purge of questions the riddance of why

that right now

it just bounces bing bang bong ricochet rabbit about my brain like some super ball spiked with psilocybin kerosene red pepper and cunt juice

a threatening match stick poised ready on the black strip running the length of my emotion

goddamn goddamn

tick fucking tock

long breath drawn between pursed lips puckered lips slow deliberate controlled

one two three
one two three
one two three

one two

one

tick fucking tock

it's two fucking thirty in the morning

god is watching and i don’t care she craved my craziness she savored my insanity infatuated with my impatience

the wind it tears up the hill through the alley and up the walls and screams for me to open wider the window and scream back to scream back at the very god that is watching me scream back that he has trapped me in this lonely room

god is watching and i don’t fucking care and all that

Viva Las Vegas

surreality surrounds and lingers tries to capture my separating humpty dumpty mind and body as parts and pieces of my soul seeps out into the stale stillness that is this alien world that suggests sin via subliminal messages beamed haphazardly from closed circuit television cameras one-armed bandits and twirling pasties adhered securely to breasts fake and natural little fingers of energy that tickle the balls of my inner satan

tens of thousands of us suckers slide through the portal that is mccarran station as we are ripped out of long winged aluminum tubular birth canals by our achilles heels held high and spanked on our bare bottoms to elicit screams and fill our lungs with the unnatural desert air spiked with spanish fly and a quixotic need to tilt at the ghosts of bugsy siegel and hank greenberg

and we cue up in lines that wind and wend through paths natural and manmade around the outside of the portal little white earbuds attached to jetsonian communication devices attempting to line up business appointments garner envious dinner reservations or more likely simply chit chat with whomever friend or foe we may be able to reach so that we are perceived by others in line to be both critical and necessary and

above all

hip and relevant and in the know

because we all know because we all fear that the moment either of us is perceived as being irrelevant the moment either of us is seen as being slightly out of touch we are forcefully extricated from this persistent game of musical chairs and relegated to the ash pile of trivial impertinence

tis a land of emotional grecian formula which is carefully distilled and distributed in very elaborate and fancy bottles stored by the thousands in rack upon rack upon rack and infused in libations both colorful and powerful served by female automatons injected with silicon and wrapped tightly yet sparsely in spandex and lace

ponce de leon wasted his time in florida he should have followed his compass across the desert as youth is indeed available if you can afford it

and love

well

love it flows freely and it flows with a heavy price love she is like the butterfly one does not wildly chase love down around through the vegas strip one must sit quietly at the video poker bar sipping on call brand spirits waiting for love to approach and she will oh she will

invade your consciousness squat in the dilapidated dens of your morality

and we make our way to our hotel of convenience our own little personal house of holes and because we are a saintly crew we alight in high rise comfort sans casino and without porn on the television but complete with signs plastered all about the room imploring us nee threatening us not to smoke under penalty of law under penalty of fine under threat of public flogging

which we immediately ignore

as we fire up bowls large enough to hold tomorrow’s cocoa krispies bowls filled with imported northern california ganja green and sticky like money

dirty dirty money

and we call our bookies to express our undying faith that alabama can cover the spread and we point our trusty browsers to youporn for inspiration to expend our fresh off the boat seed quickly and expediently so as not to provide an easy round for the anticipated dalliances that we pray will happen

either by serendipity or credit card

our faith in bacchus such that he will provide

and we descend from up on high to sit at the right hand of our savior the bartender and his faithful disciples we sit around on faux living rooms arrangements of sofas and chairs hip but not so overly comfortable as to suggest a long stay as to suggest pitching a tent alongside our faithful desert steeds

and we swap stories both bold and brave of our journeys across sand and stone stories perhaps true stories perhaps stretched and we measure cocks real and imagined we allow them to swing low we cross them as swords we measure them as metaphor

and we consume copious amounts of alcohol pretending that this is something we do every monday evening

while we also pretend to be grown ups doing grown up business things we extol virtues of ethereal products promulgate promises to deliver in the next quarter we’re taking orders now get in line don’t you know you don’t want to be behind the pack

you don’t want to be looking for tickle me elmo on christmas eve now do you our biggest collective fear being that of heading left when the world heads right looking under the bush when it’s up in the tree

and we are constantly scanning the room for fresh conquest for those with purchase orders flowing from their pockets for those with freshly fucked yet available looks for those whom we traveled all this way to see

and there she is

she drives me crazy and i can’t help myself and i must make my way to the bema to sit at the mahogany bar and talk to her she all blonde and buxom and her grin is like a scooby snack lifts me up not by the nose but by my cock drags me floating across the room sailing above the hipsters each and every one peddlers of gadgets big and small their shiny balding heads all bowed down praying their fingers dancing along their smart devices their electronic rosary beads angry birds a modern day parable for jesus throwing the money changers from the temple

and she pats the barstool next to her as i alight dizzy and drunk we enter into the hall of seductive discussion i express my respect for her good taste in drawing me near i sing praise for her eyes for her ears on which i lean over and nibble to which i lean over and whisper my desire for

her throat

soft and inviting and vulnerable

and i carry the conversation pretty much all by myself a burden we of the talented tongue must bear

i wiggle words of wonder and wisdom adulterous alliterations alight from my tingling tongue tickling her thigh without even touching

it’s so fucking easy

her vacuous eyes gazing at all the pretty baubles she admires she touches my cufflinks all shiny and bright and sparkling she touches the silky finish of my handmade in hong kong sports coat she takes my silver earring in her teeth with a growl

she whispers wishes to be rid of this place to find a spot more cozy more comfortable where we might where we may get to know each other a little better a wink a smirk a smooch to the air to the gods of love that hover about above us all

but simple sex seems as boring as taking a piss i beg her give me more fuck my mind suck my spirit grab my heart by the shaft soulfully slide your hand up and down tickle the balls of my brain shove a finger up my asshole opinion

don’t you wanna fauna

i’m gonna go to vegas i’m gonna find my joy i don’t want you any more cause you took my joy yeah you took my joy i want it back you got no right to take my joy i want it back

all i’m asking all i’m saying is tell me a joke give me a giggle lift a little of the load because i ain’t feeling it with you and yours

and i’m distracted by a squirrel running across the bar and some other lovely but lonely lauren clad lad slides in between us allowing me to slip away unnoticed to join comrades arm in arm out into the night to be swallowed by the dry desert air lit by moonlight and neon by a monster limousine that whisks us off to spinning wheels and rolling dice and tits in tuxedos that shuffle cards and deal dreams

queen six gotta hit queen seven gotta stick

and the piles grow and the piles waste away til the rhumba thumba of club tao beckons and the past midnight boogie begins we go all john travolta more pulp fiction than fever

oh momma where’s my uma

where is my drink better get another and another hot to trot waitresses never let us down they are always there it seems whenever we turn around whenever we find ourselves empty there she is tray in hand shots of bourbon of tequila of absinthe

of our sin

open up the window i need to catch my breath stop the world and let me off

and the music ends and the morning begins and our chariots whisk us back to the village inn where we will be escorted to our own very special little ten by ten luxury cell with its king size bed all turned down with a chocolate on the pillow next to the cardboard hanger suggesting breakfast be delivered at any time we may choose

and we stumble back and forth across the room turn on the television tour the offerings while we take the time to properly disrobe fold our clothes and hang them in the closet perform our night time ablutions slowly wash our faces with temperate warm water brush our teeth

we cling to the little rituals we hold on to tradition

because we all fear the day we all fear that point in time when we merely collapse fully dressed on top of some pallet on some floor in some fleabag motel found downtown off on some side road three blocks over from the strip

pass out and collapse in our blacked out state

drown in our own vomit

viva las vegas twenty twelve and all that

Missed Connections

November 24, 2011

right at home being lost - m4w - 50 (russian hill)

Date: 2011-11-24, 10:21PM PST
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there you were standing on the corner of leavenworth and green you wore a paisley scarf about a throat that i know must be tender soft inviting...vulnerable. your shoulder length hair is it blonde is it a sandy brown it was hard to tell in this late november light, the wind blowing it a bit sporadically, in its hilltop gusts. you seemed to know where you were though you glanced up at street sign and house numbers as if you were lost...i know that feeling i live it constantly have become somewhat comfortable in my confusion.

i was walking toward you, from union, longish hair, glasses, a long coat over my button down shirt...

you disappeared and all i remember now all i have left is the click the clack of your heels on the sidewalk...


November 25, 2011

eyes and throat - m4w - 50 (north beach / telegraph hill)

Date: 2011-11-25, 6:52PM PST
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you were in a jewelry and crafts store maybe you worked there maybe you are friends with the woman who did i came in with a friend you were talking i bought a scarf you smiled i bought your favorite one or so you say maybe it was a line maybe you're a craft store b-girl sitting at the bar making us guys feel comfortable and cocky with our wallets but i saw your gaze as you spoke i noticed the sparkle in your eyes beneath your knit hat i noticed the loveliness of your throat naked because yes i bought the scarf...


November 26, 2011

hill-spiration - m4w - 50 (russian hill)

Date: 2011-11-26, 12:21PM PST
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i walked up hyde from its beginnings or endings depending on where you set your emotional compass you were three steps in front of me and before you even reached beach you had stretched your arms above your head and shed yourself of your top layer i begged you to shed even more but did so quietly to only myself my momma she raised a gentleman you crossed the cable car tracks kept going up hyde i followed matching you step for step up the hill my eyes swinging with your hips the base of such a sweet hourglass the sand trickling down trickling down trickling down you paused at the light at north point i looked both ways and kept going passing you only so i could get that glimpse of who i followed putting a face to a figure then i paused on the other side to check my phone and you leap frogged back ahead of me and we kept climbing on up hyde up up up your sweet wiggling stride guiding me pulling me up the hill your hands went behind your back clasped together as if they alone could push you on up we walked leaning forward walked until my enthusiasm pulled me alongside you where i said something corny not wanting to stop mid-slope and break the momentum knowing that if we did we would never get to the top but you smiled and i grinned because sweet smiles drive me cheshire

and then i lost you in the group of tourists at the top of the lombard street hill