Life Story XVIII

Inside-joke car ride sing-alongs.

Asteroids

(retelling) hit and run

It wasn’t snowing but it certainly was grey
the way in which concrete reflecting off
concrete reflecting off steel can be &
my knee shot out--a bruise that shook through
The frame of a 70’s Schwin--limping not walking
gasping not breathing
after the accident.

911 took 40 minutes to come &
I wanted to ride in the back of the police car--
child locks and metal
mesh gratings a clear division of
power-- but the police are not a
public taxi service, even for those
with hit & run

busted bike wheels.

Californ-I-A

"you gotta see the west coast,"
she said. her acrylic nails were
red and the color slunk into the
whites of her eyes. "there just
ain't nothing like the blue sky
in california." a cough hacked
from the cracks in her chapped
red-lined lips. "you gotta see
those people. they got these bright
white teeth and blue convertibles."
"something about it," she said.
"god bless america, you know?"

Maine

Nine hour drive
Hot and heavy June
With no air-conditioning
We drove with the
Mass-holes
to get to you.

for the sake of continuity, this could count as NY

maybe

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa thick, soupy mist
floating above
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa sun burnt,
heated street
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa peeling,
high beams reflect
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa pale white lines
off of
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa circles under eyes
the cloud
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa 2 a.m. driving home
that cannot
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa stay awake or
fly.

telephone 1

addicted to the telephone
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa tetherphone
i am always a phone call away
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa never away
just in case my car breaks
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa down

the sweat crackle of her voice
(it actually sounds different)
& i am ever seeking the
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa sound of sweetness
aaaaaaaaaa giddy cute talking to animals & babies voice

that is the closest thing to
a smile i can get--
the intonation the
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa reflection--
bounced off of clouds & filtered
through the cosmic microwave background

an invisible (time elapsed) embrace.

after hours

two 0 one AM

cannot tell upside driving
(85 milesperhour 147 miles 1.729 hours)
or more
spent standing breathing exhausted after shower scents
present jitters nostalgic blast white mashed in selfish specifics

THE ENCORE HIT ME

route 1 to route 76 west
to 4 moons seen shimmering--
Galileo discovered these dreams
four hundred seventy six
years ago Italian post-it-notes--
look at the sky tonight

cratered moon
like
athletes foot eaten heels walking nine
blocks to Starlight
(a ball)
room at the front for
DANCERS
wanderers in Jovian ellipses
small sour milk white apartments
mental mold posted sharpie
SHAVEMOPEMEPLAYGUITAR
feed my beer money porcelain frog
hungry heart stargazing return
to indie roots concert waiting
lines go to bed at 2:14.

Pittsburgh

I wrote this poem on my weekend getaway with Jenny to Pittsburgh.

It is titled: Pittsburgh.

A circulatory system of concrete
causeways. We rush-a red
blood cell--over bridges through
tunnels into stems of nerves extending
sky high
three blocks wide
and steel
stone cold
wind resistant windows to tinier
expanses--minute craftings of
ring finger rewards orange stone maroon
threaded gloves hold maplines
charted anatomies of this pulsing
organized metal saw mill of yesterday.

surfing

I feel like doc-like in my odd websurfing and findings and checkups right now, but found this on my sisters sight and enjoyed it quite a bit. It is about songs and what they remind you of.

THE WAY HIS COLLAR FALLS-SAVES THE DAY9th grade-sitting in chris’s room and listening to this on vinyl and then we went outside and he taught me how to play ‘hold’ on our front porch and rotto brought over mikes hard lemonade and I had to drink them all because chris didn’t like them and we threw them at YIELD signs on the way to the recycling center and when we got home I had to clean the house so that my parents wouldn’t know chris had a party while they were gone

TRUSTED-BEN FOLDS10TH grade- driving with chris in the mini van to do recycling and we went to kick the cardboard boxes into the big bin because we were angry and we realized that kicking thick cardboard boxes really does hurt [you wouldnt think so, but add the elements such as a breeze and 30 degree weather and you'll see]. And then we went to the tiger mart and got coffees and candy like we always do