midnight los angeles

why is one cigarette never enough?

one kiss?

one beer?

one moment with you?

 

i’m drinking and writing

it’s what i do

she’s curled up sleeping

trash bag full of my clothes, a pillow

my jacket, a blanket for her tiny frame

my cat laying on top of the jacket

 

i watch from the balcony

through the sliding glass door

light a smoke

words i never spoke

but i don’t care if she never leaves

 

across the street i see a coffee shop

when sunlight saturates l.a.

i’ll get some coffee and bagels

till then i’ll skin

the flesh that covers

the lies that strive

to convince us of what we should be

and not who we really are

 

in l.a. everyone looks away

but i can’t stop watching her sleeping

 

of course

when a relationship becomes expectations

i cannot linger

 

and can anyone else have the same permanence

no moment atonement

no you only get to be you two hours a week

the rest you need to be what i speak

 

the frolic is fun

then suddenly the nun

puts a level on my lifestyle

“for there to be balance

you cannot dance

until there is room on the floor for fun

things need to be done

till then the floor is too cluttered

 

and i am the fool who utters

that love can linger

like the girl who is now

curled up on my floor

wanting nothing more

than what i am able to give

 

which is to live

in the moment

and just enjoy it anyway you can

no master plan

 

just order 10 servings of a side order

of 2 meatballs each

and keep popping them in your mouth

as you walk down the street

 

and let the pleasure of the moment

perpetuate

 

and that’s really it

cut the cord on all the other shit

you perceive

i don’t say be like me

but if we don’t perceive the same

find another game

cause the only game i want to play

is spin the bottle we just drained

without restraint

 

and when gravity makes the bottle stop

then make a mess that even a mop

could never clean up

 

***