rain dance

whiskyfied

cigaretted

listening to david gray’s

          debauchery

walking somewhere

in this city

 

friends say

i should live a life

more meaningful

but i just see myself

as a mass of cells

that won’t regenerate

after my last breath

 

meaning lies in the lines

around her eyes as i linger

she squints to see

me more clearly

taking her glasses off

means she wants me

to move in for a kiss

 

i could never conjoin

with a convertible

to get her to conjugate

with a verb

take me disturbed

tongue tasting like

whiskey and cigarettes

 

i’ll take you to the best

damn taco stand in town

share whatever liquor

is laying around

 

if there’s a puddle on the ground

i will lie upon it

so you can walk across

but considered it loss

if you want me to do

anything more than

celebrate the moment

 

no atonement

just took my shoes and socks off

left them on the sidewalk

they felt confining

i am defining

nothing

 

it’s septmeber in los angeles

and the only thing missing

is a torrential rain

like the kind that sustained

my first volume of

the dark streets of decay

 

friends say, “do, do, do

be, be, be”

 

i say,

“don’t be like me

i am free

and that is something

few people can handle”

 

just realized

these are like bell bottom jeans

scuffing the concrete

as i walk without the

elevation of nikes

soon they will be as ruined

as everyone says my life is

 

just twisted the top off

another bottle of

cinnamon flavored whiskey

750 ml, 66 proof

 

people are hiding under their roofs

thinking they need to vote for trump

so they can hump in safety

and procure for themselves

one moment of happiness

 

perceive what you need to be

i’m perceiving another cigarette

without regret

 

fucking l.a.

even plastic bags

are tantamount to mortal sin

i soliloquy with gin

while my mp3 plays

mazzy star

 

at least if i cut my bare feet

i already have alcohol

to disinfect them with

did i mention 66 proof?

 

and the thing about food trucks

is they don’t have a sign,

“shirt and shoes required”

oh and their authentic tacos

 

do i have to keep repeating myself

or do you get it

if there’s a difference

split it

just do what you

fucking want to do

 

if you believe differently

then live accordingly

just don’t tell me

you are not free

because others cannot see

your truth

 

honestly?

nobody cares about you

so why do you care

when they share

that you have to bare

the burden of their existence

 

i can’t believe i’m gonna quote

the beatles here

but let it be

be free

by being yourself

with or without

there’s nothing you fucking need

just be

in the end

you won’t even be aware

they are shoveling dirt on your casket

 

or who or who did not

show up at your funeral

and what did they actually say

about you

because they are just as miserable as you

trying to do

this thing called

pleasing idiots who  don’t know when to quit

because they think that something

has to matter

 

yes

something does matter

you

 

so why are you living like you don’t?

meeting everybody else’s expectations

till you are mired in misery

saying,

“i’m making everyone else happy

why aren’t they making me’

 

remember they only know their own need

translating everything about them

as everyone’s obligation

 

i call it mental masturbation

because you’re not satisfied

with pleasing yourself

 

what do you want

try for a homerun?

while the third base coach

is signaling bunt

swing away

let them kick you off the team

 

or die in misery

let your eulogy be,

“he was a real team player

made all the sacrifices necessary

to make us successful”

 

well then go be dutiful

 

but understand when you’re at hand

squawking

i’m looking for the nearest exit

because a web of lies

no matter how despised

makes you nothing but a meal

 

and i can’t help but feel

that we define what’s real

and if a cigarette after sex

is your climax

why are your renditions

defined by everyone else’s conditions

 

when will you realize it’s all

a matter of opinion

and people are trying to control you

based on nothing else

 

but let me get back to those

lines around her eyes

i was lingering on

that’s a song

even michael stipe couldn’t write

because we don’t know how

to be satisfied with the moment

but we want to play god

to make every moment the same

 

but then comes the cost

eventually the frost

makes it necessary

to leave the park

the picnic and all the play

go inside

be able to pay the heating bill

 

which is why

i don’t define the moment

with a line of credit

or a prepaid debit card

 

i let the moment pass

without needing a tank of gas

to make the next moment possible

 

the moment will happen

and i will simply perceive

the pleasure of the moment

even if i have to alter my perception

 

life is not a question

which is why no one has an answer

 

dancers moving by a choreographer

will never put on their favorite song

and sway the way that feels right to them

 

***