time (28)

THIRTY-EIGHT

skin diseases.
body aches.
sour.
time loss lapse.
too much to do.
too much to distract.
where's the substance.
where's the real.
silly over thoughtful.
make it all go away.
get simple.
tired. all the time.
sorry.

no spark in her eye.
no quickening in my pulse.
come back. i miss you.
miss the nerves that come.
what do you smell like?
what do you taste like?
where are you ticklish?
will you hurt me?
will i care?
what do you think about when you're alone?
did you place that ad i never even saw?
did i miss my chance?

skinny limbs.
bouncy steps.
yellow hair shines in the sun.
energy.
cliche.
(sorry.)
really i am sorry.

move along.
nothing to see here.
nothing all that different here.

yearn for more.
old is not new.
old is old.

on a train.
fall weather.
telephone lines stretch twixt you and
me.
(telephone lines? extinction.)
passing towns.
pickup trucks.
dead leaves.
littered ditches.
stoplights.
dreams.
xmas lights in the lake.

work is work.
me spread thin.
time is running out.

waiting.weighty.waiting.

over.
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THIRTY-FOUR

8.15-8:30am. daily.

in a city of 8 million.

father and son (tricycle optional).
everyman.
tomkat doorman.
assorted firefighters.
older black homeless man. reading paper. off the clock.
young skinny white girl. long dark hair framing the face. looks away.
young not-so-skinny girl. intriguing unknown ethnicity. pulls hair back. meets gaze.
woman. waiting for the bus. same phone and case as me.
orange truck.
newmark porter.
driver in the black mercedes.
woman. walking beagle. sometimes frames. sometimes pulls back.
man smoking. folds paper into a makeshift cigarette holder. keeps the stink off.

and up i go.

repeat. repeat.repeat.



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The problem might be that I never lie. Or that I never fear sharing my bizarre observations about time and space and music and people. Or because I don't dress like YOUR MOM usually does. Or because I laugh at everything. And I never get mad. Ha! The more I write about this, the more I realize that it is not a problem at all!
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THIRTY-SIX

My dad turned 64 yesterday.

When I'm 64 came out in 1967 when he was 21.

What he thought then. 1967. 21 years old. 64 seemed so so so far away. And now. He's there.

From here on out, 64 will be a recollection. What was so far away is now behind. Never to return.

Caught.

And that's the thing about When I'm 64. You think about it. Don't you. What it'll be like. Who you'll be. The future; so far away.

But it's not.

But it's not.



OR



I roamed the East Village last Friday evening. After a rock show. At a club where I have ingested many things. Many of them illegal. You'd never guess it to look at me but I have ingested many things. Many (sometimes) wonderful things. Back when the Village was mine. Ours. And now it's not anymore.

It's theirs. Walking at 1am on a hot August Friday evening.

The people were cardboard.

The spark was gone.

The light was out.

I could ask for more.

When I'm 64.

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Returning

Mistakes... Be careful. Be ready. Do not disturb my surface. Begging for bread do not stand too close this mistery tree. It's clearly above you. You should never let them go away, but now you just can care only about yourself. So beg for bread, but not too loud. If future comes, where will you hide?

* * *

I woke up. It was late. Anything I laid on the positions was lying on them, but flying around in my eyes. I had my coffee and cereal. On an old tree outside a window birds were singing their morning ballad. I came back to bed. Hide under the pillow. Fell asleep again.

* * *

I wish you not to be too close the answer, when you'll have to return. I wish you to be not too close the answer, when you'll have to return!


So... Well, writing in foreign languege is even funny, when you don't know it good enough and don't use a dictionary... You just write what you hear in your head, without wondering what does it mean... This is like writing music... /Above you see some parts of my brain. Words inspired listening to Radiohead all the time. This is called Returning, I don't write about myself, never! When you made a mistake, you just -sometimes unconsciously- turn back. I love this process! Don't think bad about this, I'm young, have to learn much more./
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THIRTY-SEVEN

i must admit things do seem to becoming into focus. or be coming. or in to.
yet. there's seems a death of something too. sure: it's been back there. lurking. ducking round the corner when i look.
something. past.
and that's just what it is. past.
it's hard to say goodbye. hard to see a you drift away.
but there's a new you a-coming.
and maybe. just maybe it's the you you're supposed to be.
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THIRTY-THREE

trying not to be a cliche.
trying not to be hypocrite.
trying to be honest.
straightforward.true.
what is all this?how did this all happen?
what now?
waves of time past crushing my head.
trying not to panic.
trying not to flee.
trying to stay me.

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