Sitting at a bar
In a palace built by
Nineteenth-century slaves,
And the back of my shirt
Is soaked from the
Hundred degree weather.
I rub my neck,
Wipe the hot perspiration
From it with my hand,
Only to pick up
My glass of beer
And get it's cold sweat
All over my palm.
I ask the bartender
About the nets
Obstructing my view
Of the gold-flaked,
Hundred foot ceilings,
But he doesn't know
Why they're there,
Or just doesn't care
Enough to humor me.
Happy hour prices
Segregate me and my soul
From the charcoal
Suits shuffling past
As they head to
The trains that will
Deliver them to
Their BMWs
So they can drive to
Their wine cellars
And plastic wives.
The history of this place
Is suffocating me,
It's thick in the air,
As are the dialects
Of dozens of states,
Shouting to each other
Or to themselves
Or to god.
I pay our tab
And dive into
A red line train
Like a CVS syringe
Into a ******'s arm,
And rush away from
the city's heart
With the other cells,
Through tunnels buried
Beneath the birth and death
Of the American scream.
If I fall asleep,
I'll never wake up,
The dream will replace
The reality I've created.
The steady thrum of
The train croons to me,
But the acidic stench
Of July humanity
Keeps me locked
In this scenario.
The darkness flees
As we breach the
Border of daylight.
Jetskis on the Potomac
Remind me of what
I don't know.
Dreaded beards
On weathered sacks
Of human decay
Perched on plastic seats
Remind me of what
I've painted as real
In my underexposed brain.
I'm exhausted,
All my water has
Evaporated, risen,
And I'm a Little drunk.
My eyelids are heavy,
And move like
Hurricane barriers.
Open:
Same scene,
Different passengers.
Closed:
Spiral staircases
Of neon fibres,
A religious maven
Spitting his canon,
Fleeting images of
Hardwired memories
I've grown old
Trying to erase.
Open:
He's staring right at us.
The man in the
Periwinkle shirt
And the bronze
Kmart tie.
His sweat shines
Like young paint
On an Oldsmobile,
His double chin
Is tanned to
The color of his tie,
And he knows too much.
He knows more than I do,
More than I can take.
His eyes shine
With the knowledge,
The stupid grin
Plastered on his
Greasy face
Knocks me out.
Closed:
The sky is vast,
And unscathed by jealous clouds.
The crystal clear water holds me up,
Its pressure on my back
Is as refreshing as it is comforting.
Max and Andy splash and laugh to my left.
The pond water in my ears
Distorts their sounds,
But the mushrooms in my blood
Explain them.
Jesse is coming,
Doing well at keeping his cigarette dry,
Swimming with one arm.
I feel something unlock inside me,
Forget it's June,
That I'm floating
In this lake
For the first
And last time,
That I'm still
In Rhode Island,
That the love
Of my life
Is in Virginia,
I forget my limbs,
My hair,
My skin,
My ****,
My heartbeat,
The stellar iron in my blood,
And as the water fills my lungs,
As the shouts commence
And sight fades,
I am reborn,
I am the microbes I am swallowing,
I am the glow of the nearest star
Glinting off the rippling surface,
I am the sand beneath me,
I am the air pushing the pine needles,
I am alive,
I am open:
I am still on a train
In Washington DC
And this ******* guy
Knows too much.
His lips are wet with it.
It's written in the part
Of his thinning hair,
In the way he's thumbing
the pages
Of the book he isn't reading.
I can't contain the shout,
The burst of wasted pride,
The "*******!"
The "What do you see that's so ******* interesting?!"
I can feel Ali's hand
And the eyes of
All the passengers in the car
Fall upon me,
And the pressure
Caves in my skull.
From my sunken face:
"I'm a reasonable man, get off my case."
"I'm a reasonable man, get off my case."
"I'm a reasonable man, get off my case."
"I'm a reasonable man, get off my case." -Radiohead
