she feeds him greens

and she feeds him greens and cornbread pours a beer down his throat gives him a squeeze and a kiss and sends him on his way

up the hill

to his rooftop overlooking his goddess anchored below

who spins him into her soul whisks him up into a froth browns him on the edges sprinkles him with cinnamon slides in a candle lights it up in ways that simply

thrill

him that gives him that giggle gives him that grin makes him squirm like a worm makes him meander like that ol’ momma moccasin moving through the swampy soup back home coming to just eat her up

one long slow bite at a time

til she’s inside him

beneath his skin

way down within

mixing with his blood swirling like two feathers floating down down down dancing twirling two ballerina going round and round all the way softly oh so softly til they touch ground

sweet blue green grass

she look so good in green she do

and she feeds him greens and cornbread pours a beer down his throat gives him a squeeze and a kiss and sends him on his way

up the hill

to his nest on the hill

just up the hill where he can still hear her breathe where he can be in two skips and a jump maybe only a hop skip and a jump

just in case

maybe if

just in case

she jumps in her sleep just in case maybe some interloper should enter her dreams should disturb her sleep should tip toe out of closets and whisper

boo

he’d be there

lickety split in a heart beat in two shakes of a lamb’s tail in the blink of an eye

ain’t no mountain high enough

and she feeds him greens and cornbread pours a beer down his throat gives him a squeeze and a kiss and sends him on his way

up the hill

to get righteous to breathe his own air to lift his arms give thanks to the god of serendipity who seems to deal him decent hands who has been quite generous who has thrown a couple of teases yeah come on pull on the inside straight but who this time has dealt him a most wondrous hand all hearts to the queen he’s going all in all chips on the table

because why the fuck not

up the hill

to get righteous on the rooftop that overlooks this fair city that overlooks this town his town he is yertle the turtle he has dominion over all he sees and he sees cruise ships the lovely oriana into port on a saturday night back out to sea on a monday night lights all ablaze all the tourists drinking tax-free liquor bought at duty free the ballroom cranking up the slots all waiting to reach the three-mile limit

and he sees the golden gate bridge and the bay bridge all lit up like a christmas tree and the embarcadero and the transamerica and the hills are alive with the sound of music

a little figaro getting his blood to boil

an urging

from just a look over her shoulder she says now you don’t mind just a dab of bacon fat just a dab a do you don’t you know

don’t he know oh don’t he know oh can it be the voices calling him

sitting on the couch lounging bowl of greens torn off piece of cornbread little bit o’ molasses kicking back doing the chit doing the chat that got sprinkles of glitter makes them all a twitter the dance of words like a texas two step of rhyme and time

ladies do and the gents you know
it’s right by right by wrong you go
and you can’t go to heaven while you carry on so
and it’s home little gal and do si do
and it may be the last time he don’t know
and oh by gosh and oh by joe

and the dishes get done like they do

and she feeds him greens and cornbread pours a beer down his throat gives him a squeeze and a kiss and sends him on his way

up the hill

and prays he says he sings oh don’t let it be over let it just keep on going on and on and on and all that

Sam I Am Turns Fifty

love

is so beautifully ugly so purely tainted with its bits and pieces its trail mix of impurities

love

is such a lovely jello mold mottled marbled marred with mixed fruit aspic’d apricots such a wondrous field of sunflowers all a’bloom snakes and spiders slithering

circling stalks

splendid saxen flaxen waxen faces swiveling sunward seeking celestial solace

whilst doubts develop do well and dance atop our hopes

hell

love she herself gives pause drives me to dance peal about

pirouette and pout

so what’s a schmuck to do but revel in it and embrace its flaws

which i do as i lean over to my good friend my man sam

sam i am

as we walk along over the cobblestones that comprise the streets of brussels

it is cold and cloudy on this wintry late afternoon a dusky darkness alit by neon signs and glowing storefronts selling chocolates espresso and antiquities

signs in french and flemish but everyone is speaking the queen’s english

angels and gargoyles garnish cathedrals and heavily ornate government buildings divine illusions who look down upon the streets and the ambling hordes ancient stone beings clinching to walls and ledges and precipices looks of wonder anger venom and victory joy and division creatures who over the centuries witnessed the torture of jew and pagan witch and warlock krout and frog father and son brother and sister

the killing can be so easy once one gets the hang of it don’t you know

it is the eve of his fiftieth birthday he sam i am he is here with us his friends his compadres his bosom buddies

his associates

who along with him will eat drink and be merry who have already found good cheer in the bottom of a chilled glass in the hotel bar paying tribute to the business that brings us together convincing partners and customers alike that we are tha’ shit we are the kings of our intellectual domain

that we fervently believe nee that we know in our heart of hearts that television our version of it of course is the holy see of our generation that all one needs to do all any sinner any heathen anyone who may be searching for salvation redemption need do

is put their hand gently upon the screen

and

be

healed

and we exited the hotel upon the backs of doves to celebrate the birth of our sam our lord our savior might as well be christmas his mum being a virgin saint

she is

at least that’s what we tell him don’t want to upset him on this day this special day his birthday don’t want to upset him with tales of motherly debauchery

tales of dear old mum
taking it in the bum

the neighborhood lads
giving it to her
slapping their nads

would you could you in her house
would you could you with her mouth

and i lean over i put my arm around his shoulder i pull him in tightly i bring him in whisper into his ear

lovingly lecherously leeringly

tell him
inform him
enlighten him

that i am wearing his lovely wife’s panties beneath my jeans and not only do they feel so so good against me that they feel so good as that thin little thong rides up my ass but that’s ok that’s all right that i wore them specifically for him on this exceptional day so he would feel oh so special as i gave him a handjob beneath the table

yank yank
fizz fizz
oh what a relief it is

and we laugh and pat each other on the back and call each other faggots and queers and say we would each be proud to suck off the other one because we’re men real men and we don’t give a flying fuck we don’t give a silly sally shit about such lines that weaker beings may draw

and we walk down some winding alley propped up by restaurants and cafes and we are accosted by a tall and thin restaurant barker extraordinaire who regales us in pepe le pew accented english greets us with open arms and a young innocent the world is our oyster smile promises us free beers and women at the bar and women beneath the table and sunshine and eternal happiness

and unicorns and rainbows

and we bite hook line and sinker we wander in order buckets of moules et frites

would you could you in a car
eat them eat them
here they are

and we complain of customers and we complain of fellow workers current and departed and complain of our meager pay and our meager penises and we guffaw and giggle and spit white wine soaked bread from lips that never seem to cease moving from sentences that must that absolutely must be uttered

would you could you in a box
would you could you with a fox

and we argue over politics the euro the european union and greece sam i am he is quite proud that the united kingdom is not part of such shenanigans and someone tells him that they will be fucked when scotland departs and sam i am loudly proposes the quartering all of the fucking faggot scots as they once did william wallace so many years ago

and the irish amongst us get just a wee bit nervous memories of sir walter raleigh and the troubles still fresh in their mind

and we’re forced to climb narrow twisty iron steps upstairs in order to take a piss in a small closeted room where the urinal is on the wall right outside the door to the women’s loo

and i pee for so long that two or three of the lovely lasses come and go with the clomp clomp of heavy eurodyke heels supporting bodacious butts and boobs the door slap slap slapping as it bounces when each of them come or go

making me already a shy pisser making me a bit more nervous pinching off the stream and flinching with each slap with each bounce

and we finally up and leave ourselves we pay our bill of several hundred euros whatever happened to the free fucking beers and the waiter stands lurks over us with his little portable credit card machine stands over us watching to see if we put down a tip

which we do not because we can’t find the place on the bill to include it and because neither of us wants to engage the beret wearing walloon

because once you do you’re committed to an evening of platonian discourse

and so we wander out the door back up through the alley

and around to the ancient buildings and ghosts that make up le grand place

which we wander about wander around looking up looking down until we enter and sit at a table in le roy d’espagne an infamous bar that is looked after that is cared for by saint-aubertus the saint of all bakers

we are an international crowd sam from slough and a meatloaf looking longhaired german trying to be dutch living in the utrecht suburbs and a squared off dutch sailor with popeye forearms and two dubliner drunks with bad teeth and wistful thoughts and a cracker from south georgia who is punching over his weight class

we are white we are euro men who know all that needs to be known

and we drink copious amounts of fine belgian beer while being served by surly walloon waiters and waitresses wearing silly stiff white aprons that go up above and slipping over the head providing a sturdy mantle upon which perhaps drinks were formerly served

and we raise our glasses of belgian white and we toast to our good fortune we toast to our good times we toast to the miracle of life to the miracle that sam i am had made it to his fiftieth year

and we wish him another fifty

and we toast we drink to

liberte
egalite
fraternite

life liberty and the pursuit of happiness

of thee i sing

and we challenge each other to name five famous belgians but we each fail and between us we can name only two

king leopold and tin tin

til sam reminds us that tin tin is not actually a real belgian or even a real person

and then we laugh and make fun of the local populace not with any malevolence but with the raucous affectionate love that one has for his or her fellow human being delighting in our differences exalting in our ability to raise the dead

to play jesus

their own personal jesus someone who hears their prayers someone who cares

oh it is indeed getting better to have someone to blame

one love
one life
one need in the night
one love we get to share

then one of us does remember livingston

or is it stanley

either way we can’t remember a surname or given name or whatever name it is we’ve forgotten

and sam i am he says he is a happy man he is a drunken happy man with a smile on his face his grin wide and bright his eyes all a’sparkle he says he has few regrets

have you come here for forgiveness
have you come to raise the dead
have you come here to play jesus
to the lepers in your head

he says he regrets never having learned to properly dance salsa to dance the tango to dance the cha cha cha

he says he regrets having given his wife syphilis

but that was years ago and she’s since forgiven him and provided him with children who make him proud and who thank god look more like his lovely tolerant saintly wife and less like the ugly fuck that is sam i am

and we all stand and make a toast to

love

who is so beautifully ugly so purely tainted with her bits and pieces her trail mix of impurities

love

who is such a lovely jello mold mottled marbled marred with mixed fruit aspic’d apricots such a wondrous field of sunflowers all a’bloom snakes and spiders slithering

circling stalks

splendid saxen flaxen waxen faces swiveling sunward seeking celestial solace

whilst doubts develop do well and dance atop our hopes

hell

love she herself gives pause drives us to dance peal about

pirouette and pout

so what’s a schmuck to do but revel in it and embrace its flaws

happy birthday to sam i am and all that

singin' dem icy london blues

so i’m hanging outside the hotel

it’s cold it’s miserable there’s ice on the sidewalk there’s some sort of naturally occurring acrimonious aura within which we’re all floating and flailing

frowns abound

and i’m in some terrible need of some fresh air

i need to escape the attitude of the airport hotel it’s the same all over the world no one is a regular at an airport hotel no one in their right mind really wants to stay at an airport hotel they’re all simple utilitarian boxes with beds and running water and a very unsatisfying television channel line up but they are ready willing and able to accommodate one’s base needs for a simple

shit shower and shave

the chick behind the counter she’s all business she’s all about the minimum daily requirement of vitamin courtesy she could give a shit about who what when where why there’s none of the jovial interest in me my business my raison d’etre

she doesn’t know that i’m in love nor does she care

she glances at my passport she takes my credit card she gives it a swipe hands me my key points to the general location of the elevator with a nod of her head

and i’m erased from her memory

i’ve flown all the way from san francisco to london trapped in some middle coach seat in between the cutest sweetest little old lady couldn’t have been more than five foot two looked liked she was a miss marbles refugee complete with matching hat and scarf hands folded on her lap

and some redheaded silicon valley nouveau company middle manager with the classic hipster prison pussy goatee wrapped around what should have been a chin

but wasn’t

a couple of joints previously smoked in the airport parking lot a double dose of medical edibles two shots of whiskey from those cute little bottles and a rented copy of sukiyaki western django the only path to making it through this trip

goddamn how does miss marble do it maybe it’s some sort of episcopalian meditation practice a constant mantra giving thanks to henry the eighth and his hottentot hottie anne boleyn

anna anna come to bed
i’m a gonna chop off your head

over and over and over again until she reaches that desired state of emotional translucence

maybe her doctor has her on so many fucking valium that she has no fucking idea where she is much less that she really is quite uncomfortable

maybe she has inserted a pair of sherry-filled benwa balls and she is experiencing such drunken heights of orgasmic pleasure that she simply cannot even fathom moving for fear of losing this edge

you move it you lose it

cialis paralysis can leave a person all weak in the ankles

and perhaps i’ve gone too far or not far enough

i’m too fucking stoned to read

i’m too fucking stoned to pay attention to any movie or video on these circa nineteen sixty-seven television screens that dangle from the curvature of the airplane’s spine

i’m too fucking stoned to do the crossword puzzle in the airline smut-zine

i’m too fucking stoned to keep my eyes open and count the cracks on the wall

but i’m too uncomfortable in my middle seat in the cattle car to fall asleep

oh the fucking horror

arriving in london well not really london per se best said arriving at heathrow only to have to walk seven point three miles along windowless hallways and up down staircases whose only purpose is to inflict emotional pain to wear down one’s already faltering ego

winding my way through this bureaucratic maze that is england only to be stuck snaking sneaking salamandering through the cue so that i that we can be inspected accepted rejected poked prodded patted purgatoried browbeat by bums with bad teeth and bad haircuts wearing ill fitting uniforms and

telling by the grimace on their face

shoes that must be oh so uncomfortable with laces too short to properly tie with laces too short to hang themselves in the shower ain’t no autoerotic asphyxiation happening with these laces ain’t no david carridine action happening with these laces

these laces that constantly come undone

oh she’s come undone

and carl the customs man thumbs through my passport looking for an empty page glancing at stamps for mexico glancing at stamps for israel for canada for holland belgium germany france korea singapore glancing at my chinese visas my brazilian visas finds a blank spot gives my passport a ch-ching ch-ching with the stamp machine

and sends me on my way

to stand in another line so can get myself a few quid all printed up in such pretty colors and graced by the image of a sexless matron wearing a crown of corn

to blaze a trail across and through the cold rain and snow to hop into a black cab that will drop me off at the doorstep of my own personal hell so i can spend quality time in some windowless colorless unadorned conference room on one of the middle floors of a dreary square box and glass office building in the middle of some dismal office park out near the airport out near the hotel

which is itself quite the symbol of this post-industrial we make nothing but we distribute knowledge office park

where we carelessly play with blasting caps of potential edge walking yes and no with the explosive emotional release of cum spurting dealgasm

and then late in the afternoon on to the hotel to settle into conference calls with the west coast with the good folks back home who are just beginning their day and could give a shit that while in theory they care but in practice they could give a shit that i should be ending mine

such is the life of a schmuck

and then i’m outside hanging with the other hotel outcasts these lonely smokers most having been exiled ostracized from all aspects of normal human social activities i mean for crissake can’t a guy even have a fucking fag in a bar while he’s sipping his whiskey complaining to any who will listen about his fucked up life

I prefer to hang with these untouchables who brave the cold to congregate and suck fumes and inhale witticisms not that i’m partaking in their filthy disgusting habit not that i’m about to be wallowing in their fucking mud hole i mean i might sneak around the corner and hit the blue dream get a little righteous become one with i and i and jah

the father
the son
the holy ghost

i’ve left behind love and rockets to land in this rumpus room of misfits i just can’t believe the loveliness of loving you i just can’t believe it’s true

sugar sugar
honey honey

aw yeah

pour a little sugar on it honey

you are my candy girl and you got me wanting you

lean back against the wall tilt back the head glance up at the moon and howl

shed a tear choke back a sob
let that lower lip tremble
just a bit
come back around and engage

say hey
talk name rank and serial number
the where you from
the where you going

dude dressed in his grandpa’s double ell fucking beane plaid jacket and wool-lined duck shoes smoking a lucky strike drinking what looked like a jack and coke with a blue plastic sword skewering a maraschino cherry resting amongst the ice in a plastic cup

yeah my momma she called me claude that’s my name born and bred in oklahoma yet i ain’t been there in thirty years what a pit of a fucking place and i know pits fucking eh lived for seven years in si-goddamn-beria lived in this town on the edge of the world smack dab in the middle of a goddamn puckered goat’s rectum

i tell you what

lived in singapore a couple of years that was fucking nice my wife yeah i’m motherfucking married what i look like i ain’t never been married fuck you my wife she said i must’ve pissed someone off

one day i’m sipping a cold one sitting on a fine couch in a high rise with the air conditioner blasting away next thing i know i’ve got my ass parked in si-fucking-beria

yeah must’ve pissed off somebody

heh

shit i turned sixty fucking two sitting out in the middle of the saudi goddamn arabian desert fucking sand niggers never let you have any fun

but lemme tell you

living in ell eh for two years was fucking worse far as i’m concerned the whole goddamn valley might as well be the la brea fucking tarpits let’s throw the lot of ‘em into the bubbling pitch and watch what little meat they have melt off their bones leaving nothing but their big broad crest white strip enlightened choppers

yeah ell eh now that place is the fucking asshole of the world goddamned new age liberal crystal worshipers

i light his cigarette i lean close cup the lighter in my hand flick flick click the bic i whisper maybe a bit harshly i consider biting his ear he just looks like he needs his ear bit it’s all weathered and red with a couple of lost hairs wiggling out reaching for the sky i ask him i say so dude so what the fuck did you do what gods did you cross what past lives did you totally fuck up that you lived in so many miserable places he says looking down his nose and over his drink at me he says leaning back on his heels he says

oil

fucking oil

i’m an oil man

and i ask him i lean back up to that shriveled shrunken head image of an ear i say so if it was so miserable why did you even bother doing it why did you let them keep moving you around like that

he looks at me like i had just asked him why his dog had three legs he says leaning a bit left on a bent knee his left eye shut he says

fuck if i know must’ve been the money

londonderry and all that

Spinning Me Slowly

it is somewhere around the balboa theater near the edge of the world when the blue dream begins to kick in when the dark dark blue hashish whispers her magic words licks at my soul with her wicked tongue

i will remember in some near or distant future i will remember saying something like i feel a bit lightheaded maybe you should drive then whoa i turn your way well hey you aren’t there

baby where the fuck did you go

and suddenly there is a terrible roar all around us and the sky is full of what looks like huge bats all swooping and screeching and diving around the car

and a voice is screaming holy jesus what are these goddamn animals

then all is quiet

how do you do that where do you find these rabbit holes worm holes peek a boo drive-by glory holes into my mind my heart my soul my dreams i don’t know do you know how you do that how you do that

like a thread of heroin sneaking up through the vein

bursting out like yellow fucking stone jelly fucking stone

in my brain

just like pop rocks

hey boo boo i’m smarter than the average bear don’t you know and i got to pull over I pull the beater beemer over slide her tired old self right into an always open outer richmond outsideland out by the beach parking spot windows down the breeze blowing in off the water so chill and cool

the little hairs on the back of my neck they just tingle they stand up and wiggle they dance all about and tickle my fancy send shivers up and down my spine

like i’m back home way up through the woods out on the edge of the pasture sitting up in the sugar shack on a bale of hay with my first girlfriend debra she sweet and nasty debra she taught me to kiss she taught me to touch lips and linger and enjoy and feel the love and give the love and share the love and we wiggled and we danced on those bales of hay way out there in the sugar shack

goddamn can i get a witness

one mo’ little toke o’ the blue dream little dark blue pearls of pussy dripped into such a wondrous resin to sacrifice to the goddess herself toss the virgin onto the fire breathe her in

feel it

do it

express yourself

i’m here to get a little trim touch up the locks do the metrosexual thing fight the aging fight fight against that good night my man peter pan he keeps his shop way out here by the beach i have traveled from my perch atop little city i made my way out meandered out over hill and dale to this edge hey it’s worth it hey

he’s peter fucking pan

doesn’t speak a word of english but he’s the hippest dude i know peter fucking pan way out here in never never land

and i walk in and here’s peter’s wife may and she sits me down and brings me fresh pineapple cake fresh from tawain from where they’ve just returned back from chinese new year’s she brings me jasmine tea she so cool she so hot

we do the chit we do the chat she tells me stories of family and dinners and trips over to hong kong to shop and she shows me a new scarf it is beautiful a jade color with gold threads running through in wild patterns

like you do along this blue dream trail running up and through my glory holes

then she may then she gets up and she leaves and she comes back with the black robe and she has me stand up and she has me hold my arms and she lifts up the robe with her own open arms oh god is love and love is god and to thee i do give thanks i give thanks goddamn i do and i slide right in like i want to slide into her slip sliding into her like i am simply sliding slip sliding banana peel falling head over heel like i always do i am so clumsy i fall so easily

i ain’t so easy to love but i love so easily

and my asian athena she takes me by the hand leads me to the baptismal pool to the big soft chair where she helps me lay gently back til my head rests just below the warm waters that pour oh so so faintly and there he is peter pan standing there like a large asian prince of the elves he is there behind me and he takes my head into his hands into his magical elven hands he touches me with the tips of his fingers he wiggles them fingers he dances them fingers like black bart is standing outside the bar with them fingers black bart he holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand he got that big six shooter in the other he drunkenly yelling at them fingers he screaming dance motherfucker dance shooting his big old pistol them fingers they jump to they wiggle they dance they do the soft shoe they do the tap they waltze across my head

and i surrender to peter pan this motherfucker this silly sally shit is like goddamn crack i’ll suck his dick i’ll suck his daddy’s dick after I run out of all my money sell my mother’s jewelry sell my chirruns into slavery i surrender right into them fingers

and i surrender to peter pan and he takes me up on his magic carpet and i just float up and around them fingers they shoot fire and heroin and love and wonder i stand up and step off onto a cloud such a cool gold bond moment on the toes i open a door and here you are how did you get here goddamn here you are standing at your kitchen sink playing with your food

playing like you do playing with purpose

long blonde hair falling down below your shoulders

handfuls

goddamn

got them curves like a girl got like a girl she supposed to have got them places to hold on to got them places to grab hold of got them curves like a girl got curves them curves that give me a big dipper loop de loop ride turn me upside down spin me around baby i just wanna be your hula hoop just pick me up give me a whirl swing them hips hands over your head i am a monkey in the space ship i just wanna orbit your hot self

spin me slowly

suspend me about them hips

and let me slip slide fall around about

them long legs that go all the way down to the floor so white and smooth and inviting all the way down to them cute little piggly wigglies that i know can dig into the sheets grip the sheets grip the hairs on my legs pull me in

oh silly sally up at the sugar shack oh miz sweet in my tea please pull me in

let me be that little bit of chili in your salad let me be that touch of wasabi that causes you to catch your breath i want to be that guy

for you

i crave you to crave me

‘cause fuck you girl you do it to me it’s only fair love war mata hari you stole a lock of my hair you sewed it into your voodoo doll you stuck a pin into its heart

that draws me up behind you that pulls me up to you that takes my hands that sends my hands up and around that take your fullness in squeezes you back into me that move up to your throat as your head falls back and turns to kiss

to let your lips linger

your throat in my hands

lord know how i miss those days dressin’ up for church on easter sunday doing the electric slide at every party

if only you knew what i’ve been through you would celebrate

get up

you would celebrate

like i celebrate like i’m celebrating right now pressing up against you standing up there against the kitchen sink all wondrously june cleaver you should have pearls big droplets of white pearls on that milky pale soft silky skin pressing up against you

wanting you needing you right here right now you can feel me i know you can right this very moment you feel me growing you feel me breaking out breaking through i cannot be contained

you do that to me

i want to be that guy for you

and then the door it closes that wind it just sweeps me out and the door it closes and the magic carpet it floats back down to the ground and peter pan’s magic fingers they’re tapping upon my head as he’s finishing up with a quick playful toweling and i open my eyes and may she’s standing there in front of me and she’s not looking at my eyes she looking a little further south and here you’ve gone and done it again got me all worked up even in my blue dream magic finger haze you got me all jiggety you’ve left me so wanting craving

it’s there for all the world to see how i bleed how you make that voodoo doll make me bleed baby you are my voodoo priestess i am your zombie prince with the monster slumber time dream space hardon

and may her eyes then move up to greet mine with a grin and me well i just close my eyes and lay back down into the towel

spinning me slowly and all that

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