Mar 2020
Most of these nights, I do not even try to sleep. The bed lays empty and the night grows on me. My mind wanders if it is simply tired or sometimes I turn myself on if I am too scarred. When the nights sparkle, that is when I step out and search.
The nights sparkle these days under the city streets and one may even find some crime in the darkness. I look for some drugs in the back alley still even in adulthood. There is a homeless man covered in cardboard and goose feathers. I thank my good fortune because no strings attached means I have found what I am looking for.
Somehow, he always talks about a ride to paradise just for fun. He even laughs about Las Vegas as he fights his demons. Au contraire, I lay awake in my crumpled sheets satiated, his sign is etched in my memory. "Drugs'll **** you.-Voltaire"
It has been 3 years since I saw a criminal shuffle his feet across the alley on to the pedestrian crossing on Park Avenue. The breath of moaning women can be imbibed from a nearby brothel. Some may not even bat an eyelid when thinking to avoid this street and it's capillaries. Yet, this niggardly beggar keeps me company. This beggar keeps me company.
I buy him a whiskey to help him sleep as a breeze moves softly through the streets. A *** of his choice helps him keep his insides warm. I read the ending of "Sweeney Among The Nightingales" from my book as dozes like a docile child.
A warm summer approaches and we talk in cold tones about the politics of the country. But, this conversation is the most memorable.
"Bud, you must have capacity."
He says,"Is that why you keep me nearby your shoulder? To make fun of me?"
I say "I don't flatter anyone. I just get cranky when dawn comes."
He keeps silent and then resumes,"Smoke this."
I take a puff and days go by.
I find his spot and he is gone. His signboard lays on the sidewalk,"Drugs'll **** ya" it says.
Now I can sleep knowing that he is gone to a better place. Whenever the nights sparkle, I remind myself that the search continues unless I keep dreaming, hoping they will come true. That's when I knew I met the greatest artist who could actually bring change with a candid remark and turn the world berserk in a quick flick of a flame. Not with a bang, but, a whimper
The nights sparkle these days under the city streets and one may even find some crime in the darkness. I look for some drugs in the back alley still even in adulthood. There is a homeless man covered in cardboard and goose feathers. I thank my good fortune because no strings attached means I have found what I am looking for.
Somehow, he always talks about a ride to paradise just for fun. He even laughs about Las Vegas as he fights his demons. Au contraire, I lay awake in my crumpled sheets satiated, his sign is etched in my memory. "Drugs'll **** you.-Voltaire"
It has been 3 years since I saw a criminal shuffle his feet across the alley on to the pedestrian crossing on Park Avenue. The breath of moaning women can be imbibed from a nearby brothel. Some may not even bat an eyelid when thinking to avoid this street and it's capillaries. Yet, this niggardly beggar keeps me company. This beggar keeps me company.
I buy him a whiskey to help him sleep as a breeze moves softly through the streets. A *** of his choice helps him keep his insides warm. I read the ending of "Sweeney Among The Nightingales" from my book as dozes like a docile child.
A warm summer approaches and we talk in cold tones about the politics of the country. But, this conversation is the most memorable.
"Bud, you must have capacity."
He says,"Is that why you keep me nearby your shoulder? To make fun of me?"
I say "I don't flatter anyone. I just get cranky when dawn comes."
He keeps silent and then resumes,"Smoke this."
I take a puff and days go by.
I find his spot and he is gone. His signboard lays on the sidewalk,"Drugs'll **** ya" it says.
Now I can sleep knowing that he is gone to a better place. Whenever the nights sparkle, I remind myself that the search continues unless I keep dreaming, hoping they will come true. That's when I knew I met the greatest artist who could actually bring change with a candid remark and turn the world berserk in a quick flick of a flame. Not with a bang, but, a whimper
Drugs and alcohol are the cruel engine of many an artist's creativity.
