Friday, November 29, 2013

There's some do.




Written on the 22nd of May 2009.
East 53rd.
Austin, Texas.

***

Another shot of tequila.
In the room. Alone.
I made this table.
Wanted to write on it with a hammer.

I thought he might still come over.
Listening for the sound of footsteps through the leaves.
Under the thrum of the a/c.
Between the blinds.
Bloodshot eyes.

Polaroids fall out of a book.
The old bar.
The swordfish and the stoplight.
We all thought it meant something.

This morning I signed my confession.
Lost the pen in between the seats.
Don't matter.
Cheap pen scarred from being carried around in a box.

She said wait 24 hours.
But I already told them I was guilty.
Don't sign away your life.
But it was a done deal.

Came back to the room.
Turned the a/c up to make it cold.
Man on the corner with the upside down sign
Said it was hot.
D' you have any water?
Naw. Well there's this from New York City.
Said he probably wouldn't drink it.
Said it didn't matter.
Water is water.
Who cares about the container?
There's some do.

Spend the rest of the day watching shadows
From the driveway reflect though the blinds.
I can see where the cars pass by.
Clouds turn the room from gray to blue.

Keep shaking awake.
Hunger flutters in my gut.
Stepping off a stair on my way to sleep.
She comes knocking, frantic.
Don't answer your phone. Worried.
Always just when I get to the good sleep.
And then she's gone.

I could make a call.
Or walk down the street.
And then what?
Wouldn't be good anyhow.
Not without a place to exhale.
Not waiting for the next knock on the door.
Watching for shadows.
Afraid of cats.

Wake up at the bottom of the ocean.
Squaring circles with Blake and Newton.
Breathing in the night. Suffocating.
Turn on the light for air.

Another shot of tequila.
Cook up half a leftover burger and some fries.
Try to wait it out.
Put on some clothes. Shoes and socks.
Sit here at this table I made.
Straighten papers.
I remember this book
And a bunch of polaroids fall out.

I know every face.
Half of 'em dead. Rest ghosts.
Look at those walls...
I pulled the nails out
And hammered them back in.
Replacing truth with lies.
And those faces...
We were happy just drinking.

A message on an old phone.
Can't live. Am lost without you.
Bar in the background.
I walk down the street.
Mexican woman killed her lover here
Fencing with a coat hanger.
Right in the heart.

And it's nothing good.
All my words sound like whispers curses
Under a clown's make-up.
One minute in: got anything?
Only ever one reason.
No I love you until the afterthought.
I hang out to dry.
The dog gnaws on a piece of hide.
I sit there for thirty minutes
Under a rain of tears, knives, cigarettes.

Finally, just leave.
Walk back down the murderous street.
Faces under street lights.
Naw c'mon. Too gone to fuck with.
Footsteps behind me.
Close the gate.
And wait for the sound of dried leaves
Crunching bones outside my window.

Another shot of tequila
And there is just...
Nothing.

Another shot of tequila.
Waiting for him
To come around.
C'mon, less go. For old time's sake.

Bottle's empty.
I think those cats got babies in the garage.
I'll spend the next couple of weeks
Watching them die.
Again.