the week's end

friday night i watched a band play at a bar
they really shook the place
i even danced around some
and was happy to bump into old friends
even if they were just stagnant acquaintances
at best
nothing is really new with them
i was happy to report the same of myself
saturday night i slept on the most unforgiving couch
i tossed and tuned unremittingly
ad nauseam
just praying for the springs to impale me
hoping so perilously
sunday night i went to a minor hockey game
with my father
it was exactly what i needed

just dragonflies fantasize

if i close my eyes really tight

i can almost see the shore
i can almost hear the breeze
i can almost feel your sandy toes
touching mine


if i close my eyes really tight
and open my mind really wide

i can almost see the sea
i can almost hear the waves
i can almost feel my racing heart
touching yours

if i close my eyes really tight
and open my mind really wide
and push out all the car alarms and sirens

i can see your smile
i can hear your voice
i can feel your racing heart
exploding mine

i can feel my sandy toes
touching yours

who cares

here's what i see:
this stupid screen
this wretched cursor
this so called technology
right in front of me
for all to see
and an almost empty bottle
that i drank
solely
to help inspire me
to help
get it out of me
finally

gone is the romance
of the blank white page
that constant reminder
that you've yet to
write a single thing
and the crumpled disregards
surrounding me
strewn about
everywhere but inside
the waste paper basket
that we used to see
in movies about writers
like fante, see...
it's too damn easy
now
just to find something
that stimulates
in a new window
control plus shift plus w

what a fucking mess we've made

really

the prosecutor

we took polygraphs
we didn't lie
we just proved inconclusive
we told the truth
to men in suits
who wore the same stone cold faces
we were comparable
in our results
the lines filled up the pages
like w's joined at the hips
we caused investigative headaches

you aren't so guilty anymore
you're just a bunch of innocents
rounded up before the daily's deadline
checked off on the prosecutor's list
just in time for the morning's election speeches
he won by landslide

we were good cop'd
we didn't flinch
the bad cops marched their way in
we were photographed
fingerprinted
told of the right we had not to say shit
we kept our heads
we played it cool
we asked could we get some some cigarettes?
we drank their sludge
from polystyrene cups
and promised to appear in the new year

you aren't so guilty anymore
you're just a bunch of innocents
rounded up before the daily's deadline
checked off on the prosecutor's list
just in time for the morning's election speeches
he won by landslide

everybody loves a man
who's tough on crime
all the time

they want to our bodies hanged
in the city's square
for the crowd to share

only i never did no crime
but i hang tonight

(cue the harmonica)

qu ni sheng er kuai le

you are asleep
soundly i presume
under the sheets
waiting for me
and i'd have liked
to come earlier
but i needed
my incognito
back door entry
to go unheard
how else could i sneak in a charlie brown christmas tree?
without a stir
i hope you like your gifts
i hope you can excuse my wrapping
i hope their bellies tantalize
your 7/4 shoreline
we share our every fantasy
and we put them into practice
we share the forces we create
we succumb
lights camera action

wakey wakey

i sleep beside a go-getter
which means i often wake up alone
but sometimes when i wake
in the middle of the night
she's still there beside me
i'd liken it to listening
to a really great song
one that you never want to end
and when the chorus peaks
and you're expecting the outro
you realize
the second verse has only just begun

hands

if you took someone else's
masterpiece fiction novel
and you were able to erase it
from everybody's memory
and you copied it word for word
on your remington typewriter
and you typed your own name
on the new first draft manuscript
and you submitted it
to one of the big publishing houses
and they ate it up because how could they not?
and they signed you to a wonderful book deal
and they assigned you to a wonderful editor
and this wonderful editor knew
that this was your very first novel
and being that this was your very first submission
and that he or she has been editing novels
for twenty years & change
and therefore knows a thing or two more
about what works and what doesn't
and that he or she must hack it into a thousand pieces
to compensate for your lack of experience
it makes you wonder just how differently that book would read
it makes you wonder how many writers may have gotten it right
the first time around?