part of a much larger project
early afternoon (or is it late)
the eleventh street quiet, rumbling, lulled
in the city's cove i sit on stone
cold
but with the sunlight,
dancing dappling (Indian summer after the week of rain)
drilling
abrasive white noise
a bus that buzzes
a cab that goes screech
and me
sitting smoking sagging
monday mess
slumping dragging
with a profound need for
more caffeine and
nicotine and
my down comforter
bodies moving, lurching
forward on their tracks
on the path
to things that
need to be done.
accomplished.
busybusybees.
and me
and the couples (overhearing)
they are nearing
and the man in the suit
brusque to his bluetooth
i am tired,
my body is wired
shaking
whose heart is breaking
when the lights turn red
buzz city buzz
scream and scream howl and shake
the pup and the child collide
and i am floating up, up up up
up back up
the rabbit hole
- - -
shit kicking who are we tricking
as we tromp down the
train tracks hiding out back
behind the places we don't belong
this is not my planet not my sphere i don't belong here
out of touch out of sight
hiding under the bright light
shrinking inside suburbia
the wind cuts at my hair (it goes all)
and the grass is tall the grass is
dry so dry and this is how we spend our days
shifty shitty tattered island bobbing through the
utopian wasteland and the sun is too hot on my back
and i can't go back
i can feel the ground shake and we have to run the train is
blaring people are staring like
who the fuck are these kids and what the
hell are they doing back here and
shit,
it's not like i know.
but we have got to go and
so
we spring we run run run down the rocks
through the trees under the brush to that hole in the
fence where my jacket always
snags like i'm not allowed
to leave here.
the eleventh street quiet, rumbling, lulled
in the city's cove i sit on stone
cold
but with the sunlight,
dancing dappling (Indian summer after the week of rain)
drilling
abrasive white noise
a bus that buzzes
a cab that goes screech
and me
sitting smoking sagging
monday mess
slumping dragging
with a profound need for
more caffeine and
nicotine and
my down comforter
bodies moving, lurching
forward on their tracks
on the path
to things that
need to be done.
accomplished.
busybusybees.
and me
and the couples (overhearing)
they are nearing
and the man in the suit
brusque to his bluetooth
i am tired,
my body is wired
shaking
whose heart is breaking
when the lights turn red
buzz city buzz
scream and scream howl and shake
the pup and the child collide
and i am floating up, up up up
up back up
the rabbit hole
- - -
shit kicking who are we tricking
as we tromp down the
train tracks hiding out back
behind the places we don't belong
this is not my planet not my sphere i don't belong here
out of touch out of sight
hiding under the bright light
shrinking inside suburbia
the wind cuts at my hair (it goes all)
and the grass is tall the grass is
dry so dry and this is how we spend our days
shifty shitty tattered island bobbing through the
utopian wasteland and the sun is too hot on my back
and i can't go back
i can feel the ground shake and we have to run the train is
blaring people are staring like
who the fuck are these kids and what the
hell are they doing back here and
shit,
it's not like i know.
but we have got to go and
so
we spring we run run run down the rocks
through the trees under the brush to that hole in the
fence where my jacket always
snags like i'm not allowed
to leave here.