Monday, July 20, 2009
the sun looms like a threat. the pavement hums. A boy and girl riding bicycles. the boy is me, peddling toward an ice-cream truck with a pocket full of change. silver half dollars - birthday money. the girl pumps her skinny legs. bright pink streamers fall like a horses mane from her handlebar grips. She smiles her shiny teeth at me and i already imagine her unwrapping a red white and blue rocket pop. i can taste it. i can feel it melting sticky down our fingers. we will compare red tongues and blue lips.
her hair sticks to her face like little black snakes. sweat on the back of my neck makes my skin prickly. there is a dull moan of ice cream truck motor. a slightly perverted and out of tune Pop Goes the Weasel fights it's way to play through the thick hot air.
I don't remember the car or her yelling for me to watch out or stop or why aren't you stopping?. they warn you, there are warning signs. but, i never stop. I won't stop. I can't stop. little cartoon hearts flutter out of my chest when i wasn't looking. I never saw the car.
the head over heel feeling and the glimpse of sunlight and braids. sunshine and braids. i tumble for what seems like a life time. everything is slow motion. the change falling from my pocket hitting the asphalt and rolling with the grace only money can find. my bike over there, me over here. lying on my back more serene than Buddha on xanax.
people come from out of their houses i think. the girl runs over to me. she is smiles and sunshine. she is braids and glasses. are you dead? she asks. are you over the rainbow? she asks. say hi to the tin man, say hi to the scarecrow. she leans into my face and kisses me. i guess maybe i had died. but i remember getting up and shaking myself off. someone telling me i should look where im going next time, to be more careful then handing me change and dollar bills. "for your bike"
maybe, i thought. maybe i did die. maybe everything after that and since and now - is a dream.
the girl, she was glad i was okay. that i wasn't dead. she stuck out a bright red tongue and declared herself the winner.
It's resistance failing and the words feel nice inside my head. your name feels nice inside my head. I have yet to kick the habit of you. So, could you ever come slip back under me? If you ever made it easy. I would. I know you're there. I haven't killed the habit and this has become my only fix. my love is a ghost that fits my skin. there are remnants still in my bloodstream. it's enough and never enough.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
sit around a lot of the time. wait for summer. it comes and then it's the same. it goes and then its the same. probably thinking whats next- whats next?. waste my time.
come waste my time and let's fuck like we used to and if we can't like we used to then how about we like now.
now is all we have and if its with me or him or her the difference is slightly to the left of the moon. where you are. where i am.
we just happen to be stuck in the place between. the silence.
i don't know why it ends up like this. short choppy sentences. no structure. kind of like us. kind of like me. or the story of us or of me. the one i wrote with you in it. the one I'm writing now. and you are gone.
here. gone. here.
it wouldn't be much different but lets pretend it would. lets pretend we wouldnt get along. that we are strangers. you don't tend to make me angry. Ive learned something. I've changed and things are just splendid.
i don't even eat the same foods. i don't even have the same job or the same hair cut. things change. when they do - it' s now. no use thinking about tomorrow. when tomorrow comes it will be now.
love me like now. at least say you do. at least say you'd meet me somewhere. I want to get in my car and turn toward your direction. I want to light up the tires and light up the night. fireworks.
it's because of the fireworks. it's because of you.
July. we waited so long for summer. it comes and it's the same, it goes. what's next? who cares.