They say things like:
Who,
What,
Where,
Why,
How,
how they say these words
you just know they don't mean
anything by it
-Howya doin'?
-good.
-just good? not great?
-great is a big word
-beautiful.

He likes to play pretend
making sense of the make believe
believing all the words
which worked their way
through his windows
he climbs to the top of hay bales
to tumble towards the earth
a heap of laughter
running away from the farmers
perched high atop their tractors
like a tractor beam
he is drawn towards
the endless day dreams
of rainy Mondays
behind classroom windows
but recess is over now
and the bar is open
all night

They'd tell you to worship
the mannequins which march mechanically
like marionettes making their way
towards the main stage
But you've always been able to tell
Gods from false Idols
you fill these empty halls
with your electric electives
while I watch you
chase away the pigeons
just to see them fly
you said to me once
you're too boring
who wants to be bored?
this creature of habit
habitually picking up bad habits
like you.
I lay in bed all morning
writing my poems
I am a raconteur
you live the words
my hopeless anti-heroine
protagonist
antagonizing the ink from this pen
and no matter what happens
I'm happy to have had
my brief moment of observation

I was sitting in traffic
From the belvedere 2nd st exit
Through 2nd and Byrd
And cary, main,
Franklin street
The parking garage on my right
On my left:
Buildings anonymous
I see the Wells Fargo bank
Looming over cars
And more cars
This country
It's drowning in concrete and cars
And these people
They drive like cows with no feet
In my car I'm a fuming ball of impatience
I say
**** this ****
And to my left
In building anonymous land
A pretty looking artsy/hipster girl
Says
I know, right?
Connections
Lost in a green light switch
Grace to the alley
Which takes me to 1st
Takes me about 10 minutes
I park illegally
And ask a middle age black couple
'scuse me,
What the hell is going on?
They respond
the two street festival.
thanks.
I go into my apartment
And life goes on.

She was just sitting there
over on the curb
looking lovely
and beat up
and tired and hungry
too perfectly imperfect
to pass up.

So I walk on over
trying to think of the best line
I've got
but I've always been better
off the top of my head
when I can find it
so I said to her

listen up sweet heart
I'm the kinda guy
who keeps his cigarettes
close to his chest
You listening?
because I'm the kinda guy
whose heart beats
and gut growls
all for you
so how about
you and I
go back to my place
and wait for tomorrow to wake up?

So things were good
for a while there
Maybe even great
but years of strong loving
only led to
scar tissue
and more scar tissue
all of it so bitter
she(I) went nuts
throwing plates
Now,
no eats
no sleep
breath won't keep
beer though
so It's all good
because If I keep on
drinking like I drink
and smoking like I smoke
living like I live
then I'll be dead by sixty five

so when you go out looking for love
be careful,
because I found mine
and she killed me

Sunday night is a dull hum
constantly buzzing in my ear
Sunday night is a broken clock
hands stuck at five to five
Sunday night is experiencing technical difficulties
bars of black, white, and other colors
Sunday is so high it can't get off the couch
was that somebody knocking at the door?
Sunday night is so drunk
it fell asleep in the closet
only to wake up thinking
this doesn't look like my bed
Sunday night is trying out for varsity
only to make the practice squad
Sunday night is a suburban strip mall
at five AM on a Monday

I took my Sunday nights
and poured them in a glass
downed it in one gulp
and projectile vomited
all over my Monday through Saturdays
I took my Sunday nights
and put them on a page for you

She walked past him
heading west on broad
as he walked east
skinny and twisted
head high
chest out
like a vector he followed
his stained smile
his flashing eyes
looking directly at her
like he expected something
have a nice day
he said
she kept on walking,
thinking to herself,
*what the **** was that guy's problem