Friday, November 17, 2017

hard rain on cold concrete


she went to work

i’m walking in the rain

my clothes are stained

with the excrement of clouds

 

the rain is a shroud

that covers this city

without pity

on those outside

because of obligations

 

those on vacation

ask about the sun

they came here to see

 

i shrug

say,

“god needs to pee”

walk away

 

one of their sweatshirts

read, “wisconsin”

they need to learn

in l.a.

you don’t talk to strangers

 

i just came from a liquor store

put a bottle on the counter

the clerk was watching t.v.

looked at the bottle

without looking at me

“8.93” he barked

turned back to the t.v.

i laid down a ten

walked out

without any doubt

that that was

customary customer service

in los angeles

 

as cold as the wet concrete

i can feel through

the soles of my shoes

 

gonna leave it to her to text me

otherwise i’m free

maybe i’ll reply

maybe

 

poetry is my wife

to whom i’ve devoted my life

everything else

is just something to write about

 

poetry is the web

i am the fly

and everything l.a.

is the spider

i may have moments

of warm apple cider

 

but anything being forever

is like the fountain of youth

you either give up looking

or die trying

 

so i grasp the moment

faith in me is unwarranted

and won’t lead to personal salvation

but damn

after all is said and done

we had fun

i never gave you excuses

for an expectation

just made the most of the moment

but now those moments are gone

 

all i know is i am alone

in this moment

and don’t know what the next moment

will bring my way

as i wander

the dark streets of decay

 

***

 

 

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