‘What’s the railroad to me?’
demanded the queen,
interrupting and pointing
‘Right over there, that nobleman passed.
Right
over
there.’

You can feel the frost above
where there is a whispering.
It’s the place that I never go to see.
Up on the slate
and then slinking around
back streets
into somewhere else.

Here, the nobleman, was
blown in from the bay.
‘He only went so far,’ the queen said,
again she’s pointing out directions
‘and then he turned ‘round,’ she demurred
‘and came right back.’

‪ ‪”Pinch him!” I said.
“As you wish.” she said.

On this morning of the Great Snow,
perchance,  
I thought to myself
‘I am getting old’
and so I laughed out loud.

“Ah, at last, I see that you are!”
he then proclaimed,
while our wee Angus
vanished from the picnic.

“I want to come with you to Alderaan,” he said co-conspiring, and hearing that,
Jove laughed!

“O gentle Romeo, if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully.”

Are they strictly local?
I wonder what, of her inspirations,
she’s seeking through the Sun

Whatever it is,
It is something
I walk away again.
Hollywood again.

He leaps down unto the glossy sheen
arms out back straight chin raised

No.

But I’ve been trying.
Or, softly pirouetting Fred Astaire
Tuxedo’d tails like bird’s wings
hang low on the body
Cuz I’ve been trying.
In turn, she’s losing the Sun.

It rests like a clear bubble
Large, between.
Amorphous.
It is,
in as much as
It isn’t.

Is she done yet?
I saunter over.

No.

Where you from?
The phone rests precariously
On the metallic lawnchair,
filming.
I have to move my seat.
LOUD is always the giveaway

What I’ve just realised is that
I have never heard my neighbour laugh.
Criticisms anchor,
Bewildering.

I wonder does
she bounce awake,
up and into the early morning
tap dancing?

An off-key bleat pierces
before even the coffee beans
can be ground down

For a long time I look out the window
standing in the place of
any and all distractions.
Pinned to the wall.

Can you ever leave Hollywood?
But, here I am again!
Splat.
I mean, really?
Since I was 17!

No.

She’s practicing her lines to the
Atmosphere.
Thrashing, like so.
Suggesting, rather.

She,
Seated in the other, resorts to
Choreography.

There she is,
Transfixing.

Again,
another one.

My dearest Sammy,
The Mix Master came
Easter, Sunday
And we have not had time
To more than read
The literature
Put it together
And gloat
Oh
So beautiful
Is the Mix Master
So beautiful
We are very happy
To have it here
Bless you Sammy

Madame Roux said
oui
Il est si gentil
Et en effet
He is dear little
Sammy
Easter morning
What a spring
Lovely
as I have never seen anything
Lovely
Alice is all
Smiles
and murmurs in her dreams
‘Mix Master’

X
Gertrude

Although
I don’t remember specifics
I believe I had some leftover shake
I don’t remember any clear plastic baggie
nor how much was in it
(******* worth?)
But at the time
I had been doing a good deal of baking
Savory tortes
Fluffy quiches
Cookies always
And so I made a batch of brownies
Dark and Chewy?
That I’d like to think but I don’t remember
What I do know is that I tried them
and decided that
I wouldn’t share
Not really
They were that good
A dreamy sweet high
Really nice
Lovely in fact
But eventually
I softened and wrapped up maybe
Two
And took them to Venice

I don’t remember who got the first one
but I gave the second
to an inveterate ‘head’
****** since birth
most likely
I thought out of everyone
she would appreciate it the most
A connoisseuse
And I waited for her critique
I might add that although is seemed irrelevant
To me
she was what they refer to as
Rock-and-Roll Royalty
‘so-called’
and her then Fuckbuddy Roommate was
an Actor (aspiring)

The critique came sure enough
But not what I had expected
as
She didn’t eat it
But gave it in turn to him, the Fuckbuddy
Passing it along
To curry favor
To advance in the entanglement
To keep him interested and provided for
-i got you baby-
And not to make
too strong a point
but I didn’t much like the guy

It would have been a sad enough fate
for the Little *** Brownie
If it had ended there
but the Fuckbuddy
brought it along to a meeting
To a casual tête-a-tête with
A Major Hollywood Film Director
Huge, at the time
An auteur
Of course
You know his Work
He’ll be considered iconic
at some point
If not already
And the Little *** Brownie was passed along again
To curry favor
To create a connection
To cast the glow of good fellowship and commiseration
The wink
The nod
But this time it was eaten
And afterwards the
Major Hollywood Film Director
I was told
made a personal phone call
To let the Fuckbuddy know
About upcoming projects
Most likely those that
would never include him
And to state:
‘by the way, that brownie you gave me...
It Wasn’t Any Good.’

In turn
The Fuckbuddy (who scored a major TV role without a brownie and subsequently dumped her)
let Royalty know too
And she,
in turn
Rolled it back to me
So the moral of the story is:
Be Mindful With Whom You Share Your Gifts

‘Man’s Search for Meaning’
rests upon the garden table
Neon yellow highlights drawn almost to the last word
but leaving it, dangling

Two cups of coffee accompanied
She talks and talks unceasing
Not a breath to inspire
Not a pause
Not a subject
Not a point
Nor conclusion

KAW keh KAW KAW!!!!
KAW KAW!!!!!
The chin never stops.

He looks away
Returning her a brief glance
One Banana, Two Banana
Barely looking her in the eye
His earbuds resting down below his shoulders
But close enough and ready
To block out the sound
And yet
He won’t stick them in
and shut out
mania
A maniac

Nodding
on the rare occasion
However briefly
He looks away
Turning his head politely to
Drag one more time on that joint
A morning joint that won’t survive her onslaught of words

There’s just not enough time what with him pulling away on me like that?!

He drags on his ****
Making sure he’s alive
Are you still there buddy?
Luckily you don’t have ears, eh!

He drags again
More attentive to the filter and the
Slim
White
Stretch between his fingers
Just like the other one
The one in his pants
Close enough to the side pocket

He picks at the lint on his Adidas
And examines his fingernails
Pulls at his ****** hair
Stealing a suspicious
Narrow eyes glance back at her
She leans in and stare at the earthen floor
The leaves have been swept away

She wears little
Blessed with an ample ***** but no brain
She keep her robes open
She can cook and sweep the floors
And talk and talk and talk

But will this keep him?
He’s smiling now
Laughing, ******.
He’ll make it through to lunchtime
She’s off to the kitchen ‘for a sec’
And look, he’s on his phone
To another one so far undetetected
He’s grinning
Maybe there a pictures!

I know someone in Mexico
who keeps hers
in very fine high quality cigars
He knows about such things
And there used to be one up the street
who sported very short shorts
In hopes of keep him distracted
or preoccupied
The space filled alongside her
In her bed at night

In the distance,
The Spanish Evangelicals Sing!
And Sing!
Endless!
Rejoicing!

It’s been hours!

Sometimes there really is
no excuse to wear yoga pants
But the vaccine is here
And things could get shaky
Unstable
The eyes having begun their wandering
in advance of the Summer Solstice
And it’s very nearly time to advertise.

Leaving their outdoor table
He makes a quick exit
To another assignation
And alone
He’s run away!
She opens the book again
Just a few pages left
She’s almost done
Yellow pen in hand
mouth closed

Remember
Back in the day
When those parties
In Venice
That say would have 25 people or so
Walking through?

Now they were
Too big
Over-packed with
50-200?
With frat boy vibes?

Dana Rick and I
Arrived at one
And I thought a
At the sliding glass door
Oh God
And quickly escaped to the kitchen
Cutting through the living room
Where there was the make shift bar
Nothing much in the
Fridge

Anyway
I made my drinks
And turned around
To cross back
And somehow Dana was there
In front of me

She raised her hands
And wiggled through the bodies

While I
Said
NO
I will dance
When I feel like it
I choose

So I began to follow
And every elbow knees hip and arm
Reached out to touch me
Knocking all the contents out of
my little plastic cups

And though
I got to the other side
Contemplatively
Looking back
Empty

The three of us
Went to stand on the side of the house
Safe
By the water meter
And I laid down my cups
Laughing

So the moral of this story
Although I think it’s obvious
Is to
Go
With
The
Flow