the f u dance

marshmallow helmet

cripes
july snuck by me
snickering as it ran
buried in my own little realm
of paper and keypunching
attempting to stem off
the need to swim
amongst the trees
i sat back
glued to a screen
in my marshmallow helmet
ignoring escaping summer

somehow a loss
i did not notice and
cannot recoup

sorry
eighttwentysomethingeleven

oh boy

he sat twisted up
face scrunched in anguish
and spoke a language
my adult like brain could not comprehend

because i wasnt listening

what is that need to be the winner
the need to be right
the need to fight even stupid fights
god what an eediot i am

checked my head
softened my voice
and asked

what a concept

he came around
spoke clearly
we respected each other again

winning is a matter of opinion

sorry
eighttwentyeleven

the left side

he had gotten a dwi
signed away his rights to drive asap
court and courted ordered psychotherapy
drunk school and the humiliation
of bike riding and walking and mooching rides
from anyone with a car
the scrutiny of his wife
the pity from his kids
reduced to supplicant
a once proud man

bit the bullet
drank a lot
a lot
of coffee
avoiding the fun and frolic
and froth of old
waiting
for liberation

he ranted about the morons
now responsible for his fate
he paid and paid and paid

then the day
a shiny new license and the stroll out
of motor vehicle registry
a humble smile
with a tinge of self loathing

he drove by yesterday
we stopped in the street

he rolled down his window

nice to see you on the left side

thanks he said and he cracked a joke

hed been telling himself that joke
for many long months
its rehearsed punchline
icing on a burnt cake


sorry
eighttwentyoneeleven

chilis

some shrink i happen to know
went on a bit of a rant
about how addiction to
spicy foods
is akin
to heroin addiction
the endorphins
she exclaimed
are as potent a drug
as any other
equating the burnrush
to shooting needles in the arm

whoa there missy

perhaps
but
the ol omnivore mentality takes over
everything is on the menu
and
i ll be damned
if them spicy little buggers
aint at the top of the list for me


sorryee
eighttwentyfive

check out the photos
can you say
burn baby burn

gun to head

man
cant seem to make a move
until there is enough
tension and stress and anguish
has to have drama
and the
threat
of ultimate doom
before i move a muscle
he said

procrastination is a great motivator
i asked
inquisitively

gun to head
he said
gun to head
or fuk off
i got other shit to do

i wondered if that other shit
he got to do
included beer and porn


sorryee
eighttwentyfiveeleven

mink

steam from my coffee
swirled out of the cup as
the first few
overanxious leaves
floated in a
prefall drop

two mink
zipped along the streams shore
running over each other
to grab crayfish
as the trees
leaked piney perfume
into the mist

uh
what was i supposed to do today
hm
cant really remember


sorry
eighttwentysixeleven