where’s my flask?

walking the streets i hear someone call my name

excited i turn

but they are calling another john

 

i move along

it starts to rain

the wettest winter on record

i let it soak me to the skin

and just kept walking

 

i find a bar where i know being wet is not a crime

it’s dirty, it smells

but you can drink if you mind your own business

 

buzzed i pay

and take a piss in their urinal

next to a guy who looks like he eats freight trains for breakfast

 

back on the streets i am grateful for the rain

so no one can see the tears that stain my cheeks

my reasoning and limited intellect

are a mask i wear to hide the lies

that no matter what i may believe

nothing behind the sheltering sky

i still want to be loved

 

i find a dry spot

where even this endless rain can’t reach

and light a smoke

wipe my eyes and say, “fuck it”

 

i light another cigarette with the end of the one i just smoked

and realize i don’t know where i am

i think to call a cab

but how can they find me

when all i can tell the dispatcher is

i am lost somewhere in los angeles

 

***