I am
an American
******

Cruising the waves
I cruise
aside a brunette beauty
in tanned glistening nothing
with lips that taste of
nicotine and Dentyne
and portside ***
and her

Whales breach starboard
majestic and grand
Other whales breach nearer astern
aflail french fries and ranch dressing
oppressive and loud
always half dressed
in too little

Two too young girls in too little still
stride the decks
all peaches and cream
catching lecherous gazes from old men and dried ketchup kisses from
little boys
blown
astray

Breakfast at noon dinner at six
coladas and beer every half hour between
and pizza by the plate after **** drunk
*** 'n' Coke
sing alongs with Lizzy to
Billy J. and the Eagles

Santiago
Captain of the salt stripped
El Pablito
shows us where
the Pacific and Cortez
****
amid sea foam
and sea lion ****

No gracias
echoes
down
the
shore

¿Maybe some mota señor?
or
¿Candy for the nose?

Aboard
Tomislav serves teeny 'tinis to
mustachioed **** in
sport coat bravado
smoking ****
dropping the ashes
in their
frosted glasses
sipping slow
waiting
to dance
or sing
or both

thinking

about this
Miracle
we cruise

I need a Bleh Book

Somewhere to dump the random cacaphony of **** ricocheting against
the thinning vault of my skull like a prison yard handball

Nowhere to go but in perpetual motion nonetheless

Drolly counting a cadence without the revelry of enlightenment or the hope of release

What should be pearls of wisdom precipitously condensed by the weight of time within an elegant carapace formed under the irradescent glow of a witches moon are just chili seeds gathering dust
in an old septic tank rusting under a dimming streetlight in an Albuquerque back alley

Hard kernel remnants of rellenos long since evacuated

Maybe this is it
My book

So
Bleh *******

You
are
welcome

I would be
Savage
but
Meticulous
take my time
Explore
Peel
back to the
Workings
I would need
to see
the soul
Rip
Savor
the gasp
of the end
Would it be
enough

People want clarity
not truth
The resolution of
confusion
whether or not
resolution
reflects
reality
If the threshold for
resolution
is just enough
to whet
the mind
then the interpretation
becomes
fact
becomes
reality
becomes
so
Besides
what is our reality
if not
an interpretation
wrought by
the mind

I do not think he would
begrudge a wine tinted
smudge on the page
a blush of the blushest blush
akin to the blood of life
the cup that is filled and overfloweth
blood into wine
the Book's little innuendos
coyly writ for the quiet amusement
of chastened monks
Christ what a waste
not the man mind you
the Word
the words
lost in the compounded
ignorance of millenia
I prefer them stained red
honest on back-lit pages
Who
after all
could begrudge honesty
History it seems

Well whiskey and a Rock Springs girl,
in one Cowboy Bar or another,
waiting for the ceiling to swirl.
She says she wants to be a mother,
I just want to see her toes curl,
but I wonder if it's worth the bother.

She's lost herself to the endless wind,
thinks anywhere else must be better.
Feels her life's been pinned,
to the tail of an *** unfettered.

I don't want to tell her,
there isn't any place better.
Same **** everywhere you go,
tempered hard and stupid slow.

It's with whom you take the ride,
but God knows she's tried.
Just one ******* after the other,
and I sure as **** ain't a father.

I'll just sit with her awhile,
hope she adds me to the pile.
A drifter liar and her next mistake,
busy working the rigs for my own big break,

until my life's been pinned,
to the tail of an *** unfettered.

Square
Bland
Insubstantial
Brittle