It wasn't quite a party.
More of a kickback
just ten or twelve friends
drinking and smoking from a huge glass ****
all of them huddled around the computer
watching funny videos on YouTube
of people getting hurt and ****.
The guy at the controls
went to a website
ratemyboobs.com or ratemytits.com
something like that
and the four girls there
all moaned and groaned
saying they didn't want to see **** like that.
The guys all laughed
and continued rating the pictures of *****
as they came up one by one
when all of the sudden
a picture of a guy holding his ****
came up on the screen.
The girls finally had a reason to laugh
the guys were all grossed out
but one guy more than anyone else
he freaked out.
"What the ****, bro?! I don't wanna see guy's *****! I'm not gay!"
"Relax man...no one said that you were. Chill out."
He looked like he was hyperventilating and about to
break out in ******* hives.
"But that's gay ****, bro! I'm not gay, so I don't wanna see that ****! ****!"
He stomped off to the backyard
lighting a cigarette
you could still hear him out there
shouting over and over
"I'm not gay. I'm not ******* gay!"
he yelled, pacing back & forth.
Everyone around the computer
didn't know what to say
so they just chuckled quietly
and then someone said it.
What every person there was thinking,
"Wow. That's sad. He's totally gay."
one of the girls said.
"Yup. Totally gay..." the guy at the computer said cracking up.
He rated the **** picture
ten out of ten
and moved on
to more ****.

As a child
I had a fear that one could
become homeless
fairly easily.
I'd see a homeless man on the corner
and wonder how he got that way.
"Mom?"
"What Daniel?"
"What if I grow up to be homeless? Like that man on the corner?"
"Mijo...I'd never let that happen..."
She did put my mind at ease,
but at the same time
I wondered
is that what the homeless man's Mom
told him
when he was a little boy?

Ernesto got up to get a glass of water from the fridge.
On his way back to the bedroom
he stopped by the closed door to the laundry room.
He could overhear her
talking to him
that man.
He suspected something was up
but he didn't let on
not one bit.
When she came to bed
he smiled
when she smiled
kissed her goodnight
when she kissed him.
Then he lay in the dark
waiting.
When she started
to snore
he snuck her phone
out into the hall
and sat on the floor.
Reading her correspondence
with this other man.
According to the texts
they had ****** two days earlier
and it felt so good
she had said
better than her husband.
She was planning on leaving him
in a week.
He set her phone back on her nightstand
while she snored in her sleep
unaware of the storm building
in her husband's head.
The next day
just after lunch
he walked into the doctor's office
where she worked the front desk.
He quickly made his way through the door
and behind the desk.
She knew what was
going down
the moment she saw the look on her husband's face
and the gun in his hand.
"Ernesto...NO PLEASE! I didn't-"
"You did."
He calmly said
almost whispered
before firing
two shots
into her face
breaking apart her jaw
and the top of her skull
it snapped off
and landed on the desk
brains, blood, and gore
painted the computer.
The entire waiting room
and back office
screaming & running
from the building.
He calmly put the gun under his chin
took of a sip from his wife's
thermos on the desk
and pulled the trigger.
He woke up
in the hospital.
Handcuffed to the bed
face wrapped in gauze
tubes & needles stuck in him.
He would go on to be
the most disfigured man in cell block 9.
A **** shame.
Things rarely
turn out how you envision them.
Marriages
Love
or
******-Suicides.
It could go either way.
All of it.

I can never  seem to warm up
these days.
Its freezing all day
my feet like popsicles
pale, white, and frozen.
Winter is really
hitting Arizona
Its
wet
gray
painful
Ian Curtis and Hank Williams weeping in the black clouds above
walking to the bus stop
my freshly shaved bald head
numb from the cold.
The pomp
the greasy combed hair
gone.
Since my pin-up girlfriend
the Marilyn to my Elvis
packed up and left.
The week before Christmas.
I can't say I really blame her
I can't say she didn't try
She stuck it out a good while there
She left because I cant hold down
a job
and because
I caught her going behind my back
with another man
that combed his hair too.
Secret conversations
with a guy that had what I didn’t
Vintage wool suits
An apartment in New York City
And exotic antiques.
No matter how handsome a ***
eventually
he doesn’t stand a chance.
She used to joke about it even
“Ya know, you’re lucky you’re so handsome.”
when we both knew most woman would be leaving.
I forgot to tell her
good looks only get you so far
and they don’t last very long.
But I got a job
actually
started it the day she left for Tucson.
It’s a place that represents small business office suppliers
paper, ink toner, pens, pencils.
They get small offices to ditch the corporate
staples office max kinkos office depot
and go with small business suppliers instead
stimulate the local economy they say.
It’s a cool gig
pays high commissions and is a real quiet place.
It sits in a business district that’s right next to
an artificial lake
a big winding one
going around medium sized lakeside houses
with tiny docks and tiny boats.
It’s so close
Its just right there
out the backdoor
next to the radio blaring AC/DC
outside it’s like an entire other world
not Arizona.
green waters
thick green grass
little green *****
from the green headed
mallard ducks.
There’s pairings of them all over
a lady said they mate for life.
Those mallards
they give all that fake stuff life
they make it real.
On our smoke breaks we all go out there
most everybody just stands
and smokes on a little back porch area.
laughing, joking, telling stories
putting the cigarette butts neatly in a coffee can.
sometimes I’ll walk away from the group
and stand at the green/blue water’s edge
staring at the concrete shelf of the fake lake
just beneath the water
the real dirt
concealed beneath the murky blue/green mixture.
And everyday
I miss her
a little bit
less
and a little bit
less
with every
fake wave
that rolls in.
I just gotta warm up
winter has really hit Arizona.

I used to live with these two friends—
A long-haired Navajo guy that was into Satan & Death Metal,
and an average white guy into Star Wars & Metallica.
This one night
we were going to see Danzig in concert.
Before we went to the show
we had to get a money order and mail it to our landlord
for rent.
The three of us went inside the Circle K,
got the money order, cigarettes, and some water.
On the way out,
back to the car,
there was an old, crusty, homeless Native guy
his neck draped in rosaries,
like Mr. T is in gold.
As we walked by, he said,
“Can you guys spare some change?”
“Sure,” my Navajo friend said, digging his pocket for change.
He was just about to drop a handful of coins
into the ***’s hand
when the old guy said,
“Oh thank you. God bless you …”
A smile came over my Navajo friend’s face
as he put the change back into his pocket.
“Nope. You shouldn’t have said that. You just HAD to bring God into it, didnt you?”
“Ohhh *******,” the old guy yelled.
“Why don’t you ask God for some money then?"
We all laughed getting in the car.
The old *** kept talking.
“Just get outta here. Something bad is gonna happen to you boys. Go, get away from me. Something bad is gonna happen to you …”
My Navajo friend didn't miss a beat,
“Yeah? Well, if you don’t shut the **** up, something bad is gonna happen to YOU *******.
The old man looked down to his rosaries and began to pray.
We drove across the street to the post office
to mail the money order for the rent.
The boys stayed in the car while I got out to mail it.
The post office was already closed
and all they had were those stubby little pencils.
It had to be signed in ink.
I went back outside
“You guys have a pen?”
“Nope.”
“****.”
“Just ask somebody. And hurry up, we're gonna be late!”
Just then I saw a plump, middle-aged woman getting out of a minivan.
I approached her.
“Excuse me? Ma’am? Do you happen to have a pen I could use? I have to send off a money order for rent and I just realized I don’t have one …?
The lady sighed heavily, sounding annoyed, she turned back around
and began walking back to her minivan.
“I’m sorry to put you out, I just HAVE TO send this out…”
Getting into her van, she turned around and screamed at me,
“I don’t have any money for you to take from me. I WILL NOT BE ACCOSTED!”
She started the minivan and made a quick getaway.
“What the hell happened?”
“That crazy broad thought I was trying to rob her.”
We all laughed our ***** off at her choice of words:
ACCOSTED.

As we drove off, I remembered the old man’s words
“something bad is gonna happen.”
It coulda been worse.

So we said **** it and mailed it the next day.
The late fee was $15.00.

******* Your Sister

There was something familiar about her face. Something in the way she tossed her brown hair back and smiled. I couldn’t quite place it. She was an out-of=town biker *****. I was just an in-town biker. We leaned against the bar, my hand on her hip.
Wow. You just don’t give a ****, do you?” she said, wrapping her arms around me.
“Oh, I give a ****, I’ll share it with you, if you want.”
Her smile grew wide, as she bi her big bottom lip.
“You wanna get outta here?”
We roared into the motel parking lot. She pointed to a room, and I parked right next to her bike.
“I say *******! Your bike feels good, makes my thighs twitch,” she said.
On the way to the door, her knees were trembling. They buckled slightly, every few seconds. Yeah, this was gonna be all right. Back in the bar, we had something magnetic when we locked eyes. It was always a good sign, when you had that. I pushed her down ******* the bed, pressed her mouth to mine. She was a sloppy kisser, all over the place. Not soft and gently, like I expected. Well, we lay there anyways, kissing and grinding our hips. The chin of my beard was wet.
The radio blared a Doors song.
“Let it roll, baby roll …”
Suddenly, it hit me. No, no, this is all wrong. I pulled back.
“What?” she asked, smiling.
“*******.” I rolled off of her and stood up, tightening the strap of my leather jacket.
“What the ****?” she shouted, impatiently.
“I can’t do this.” I said, shaking my head.
“Why the **** not?”
“Well … ugh. You look just like my sister. I couldn’t figure it out before, but the resemblance is just too much. Christ, I’m sorry, darlin’.”
She sat on the bed, mouth hanging open in disbelief. She slowly formed a sentence.
“Let me get this straight … so … you’re seriously NOT gonna **** me?”
“Baby, I can’t.”
“Well, ****,” she said, sitting up, pulling her **** back into her AC/DC shirt.
I pulled out a joint and lit it up.
“I can’t ****** believe this **** … lemme hit that.”
I passed her the joint.
“Yeah, I know. I can’t believe it either. You could be her twin.”
“No, it’s all right.” She took a big hit and held it in as she spoke. “As bad as I wanted to **** your brains out … it’s okay. That’s actually very respectable. Ya Know? Shows you really care about your family and ****.”
“Yeah, I do. Nothing is more important than family.”
“You’re a good guy, Dan.”
"Well, its mainly because I don’t wanna feel like I’m ******* my sister.”
“*******.”
She finally passed the joint back, both of us laughing like children.

Used to smoke a pack a day,
now it’s just two cigarettes
in the evening time,
when the lady is in the shower
and after the ******
has been smoked.
I sit on the ledge of our patio,
legs stretched out
Exhaling long trails of smoke.
observing
the busy apartment complex.
Mainly blacks & Mexicans
with a dash of Apache Junction
white trash.
Two girls
in their early twenties
sit on a bench in the little courtyard
talking loudly.
gesturing wildly
about some ***** neither can stand.
Purple lightning flashes overhead,
illuminating
the courtyard.
Then it begins to sprinkle
And then it starts to rain.
A woman walks down the stairs from her apartment.
She’s barefoot and smiling,
head tilted up towards the sky,
taking in deep breaths
of the good rain smell.
I imagine she’s been waiting for this.
Waiting on the rain.
In her apartment.
It’s really started coming down.
She couldn’t light her cigarette,
the rain was dropping from everywhere.
Two children
run and skip down the sidewalk
with their mother running close behind.
Her arms, both of them,
full of mail, grocery bags, and a baby,
yellin at her kids,
“hurry, hurry, hurry up. C’mon, the mail is getting wet and I got Netflix
here, *******, move your *****.”
A man in a motorized wheelchair
Emerges from one of the halls
across the courtyard.
I watch his electric chair
buzz by on the sidewalk.
He was going for a full lap
of the place it seemed.
When he passed me, I saw
droplets of rain
breaking on his face and streaming down.
Grinning ear to ear
he winked one eye at me.
made me smile.
This is Arizona.
Rain in the summer is a gift.
Means a lot to us. All of us