>back to writing

22 Aug 20117

I saw you today on a green bus with tall wheels sailing by shining just one broken headlight and a parking ticket on the mast. Circling around down the slope like a smiling skateboard punk with a broken leg up on your competition. My backpack’s heavy too, but I wear my shawl like a cape of thorns.

Look both ways before you cross the slushing river of dreams overflowing its banks like some thrifty personal shopper at a 70% off sale with a card pinched from a couple backcountry camping till Tuesday. Now is now, but isn’t it Wednesday already?

Getting away from it all the world’s divided and time flows out from our clocks. But when the mood strikes noon and we all cave in, then we can bathe in that deepsea pool project compadre with his socks rolled up to his knees while he’s eating cake off my iPad with a bowie knife soaked in soy sauce and money.

I can’t stand the glare anymore and don’t know how I ever did. The matador’s down in the crosswalk tying ribbons in his own hair. Stack it up; back it up and then peel your goddamn hard drive right off your own back - slam it down on the stool next to the hottest one in the bar.

There won’t be no fight unless you pick the wrong side at the right time on the wrong night. Is it breezy in here? Or just me stirring things up with my soon-to-be-swallowed spoonfulls of envelopes and wine corks? Oh, man.


© reed o’beirne 2017