poem of songs

[ti_jean]

now that i know what the world is
it is myself who i must find
i find her
in empty skeletons of pill bottles
rum bottles
crayoned pictures
under the dresser.
could i ask too much? could i die alone?
i may die young.
could i hold the gun? would you pull the trigger?
i may faint before impact. sometimes
best friends means you pull the trigger.
remember george and lennie,
the best paragraph in the book?
the moment lingering, like it does so often,
for much longer than a moment.
steinbeck was no lover of life.
he was no painter of awkward lovely pictures
of america,
he knew his guns, he knew the farmhouses,
the dead dream.
the generation.
the shotglasses lined up end to end
the whores the bordellos the cities the sins,
the neverending math equation.

"now is a place, you see,
now is a sky"
now is
the claw of the magnolia
now is apathy.
no!
no apathy!, love, please, love!
you are adrenaline, and i
am pure amphetamine.
we are
the word 'hurricane'
the cool front collides
with the warm front
and it is
the beginning
of
a storm.

we all know
that opposites attract.
we know opposites
love on contact.