beneath the dark l.a. sky

          (just because it’s on sale

          doesn’t mean you haven’t paid full price)

 

sometimes you can only say so much

about 4 a.m. cigarettes

l.a. sidewalks

and the increasing causality of intoxication

 

this is an after sex cigarette

two strangers

we didn’t really like each other

and after our moment

i performed a merciful act

and left

 

it was a nice moment

it had been so long

it felt good to be inside

 

i’m whiskfied

outside

knowing this rain

will never wash me clean

 

i notice my black jacket

is companioned by a strand

of her blond hair

i leave it there

evidence left at the scene of the crime

 

some guy tried to sell me a vial of something

i declined

he persisted

i gave him an l.a. stare

that i was prepared

to take him out

or die in the process

his more was less

then i was willing to tolerate

he didn’t create

and was gone

 

now it’s just me and the steam

rising from a manhole

in reaction to the rain

city lights

and the cars that never stop going by

beneath the dark l.a. sky

 

i don’t apologize for my unwise

or try to justify

your juxtapositions

your side by side

will never coincide

with my lack of divide

because i will never reside

in a reason for our existence

 

wait a second

it’s been five minutes

let me light another cigarette

take another swig

find “caught out in the rain”

by beth hart on my mp3

 

all i see is all i see

nothing else i believe

and i sure as hell

don’t believe in me

 

chain yourself to a tree

or cut it down

whatever you need

but nothing will set you free

because nothing is all there is

 

well maybe the ashes of the joy

i destroyed

when i stopped believing in attainment

 

which is why out of the corner of my eye

i never catch a glimpse

 

a rat just scurried by

in the gutter

unable to utter

anything but instinct

we are not linked

i am not focused on things

that will prolong existence

because i have reasoned away

the reasons that will sway

a soliloquy of self preservation

 

i feel that flu that’s going around

trying to gain ground

yet i am soaking wet

lighting another cigarette

imbibing another hit

because it’s starting to make me

feel so good

as the beatles’ “norwegian wood” starts playing

i forgot i downloaded this song

 

wow, 4:30 a.m.

it sure takes a long time

to write a short poem

 

another night

whose highlight

was when i first penetrated

she whispered, “you’re dangerous”

as her nails rack the back of my neck

 

everyone’s so perplexed

but sex

is the real reason

we are all here

and therefore the purpose of existence

 

so practice your flute

endure your commute

life is neither a sprint or a marathon

just the realization of your rationalizations

which is why my january sky

espies

me tossing empty whiskey vessel into trash

flicking cigarette ash

as i resume walking

to where

it will never really matter

 

***