sunday, march 15
i wake up at noon or maybe one
go down for coffee
sun out, blue sky haze
brown grass by the railroad track
check the mail on the way back
it's empty again
so i haul a bag of books in to the library
mathematics and bicycle repair
downtown they've packed up the ice skating rink
and the thriftstore has been rearranged
tapes are 5 cents each by the counter
we pile the bottles and cartons in the recycling
and start to get drunk
in the late afternoon suburban glare
sitting outside stealing wireless from the neighbors
we watch the mailman come and go
there's still nothing in the box
the neighbors yell at their kids and each other
good christ i hate this place
we go for pizza and bring it back to the apartment
i put on rabbit songs
CarolAnn reads about old hollywood
i just listen to the music
and peel the label off my beer
go to bed and try to sleep until at three
i give up on my sleeping bag and go out
to the living room wide awake, stone sober
try to write, try to hack on something
but none of it will take
finally give in, find the discs full of
photos, and sit until the sun is up, paging
through 2005, 2006, 2007
in images and in-between the lines i read
christmases at home
snow on rusting trucks
blacktop roads through kansas
antique stores and dormitory hallways
gravel under the tires,
doing shots and smoking cigarettes
beers on the the carved up tabletops,
ashtrays and hazy neon signs
drumkits and shuffleboard
alcoholic bartenders
dead trees and foot-thick ice
guilty as hell and getting out
the las vegas airport, slot
machines and sharp black shadows on the floor
smoking up with isaac in the morning
the shining ocean, backyard tents
new zealand sunsets
old dogs campfires, little kids, card games
small rivers cold water the ragged hills
streets at night the waves and seabird sounds
america los angeles albany ohio indiana missouri nebraska
colorado
who hasn't heard this story
who gives a shit
it ends,
whatever it is
and if you live you find yourself
with a life you thought was defined
by something that isn't there any more
nothing gold can stay, ponyboy
cry us a river.