Surplus of bass thumps by curtailing the effectiveness of music on my ear. Sitting here outside on this cool afternoon I don't imagine the man operating the motor as I often might but a bumping heart beat, the thrashing throbbing sound of the city. An unhealthy gurgle of encroaching metal and concrete, plaster plastic chemical spray chemical drink, intruding hands eyes feet, garbage spilling out onto streets already too full of waste. I hear the beat of a malfunctioning body marked by too many irregular pulses. The city contracts, wheezes, spits mucous mixed blood on my skin that wont come clean. It must be disease, some new form of unnatural death. I forgot that everything causes cancer these days and our drugs go in without ever working. There is no treatment in these parts, in this far down land of dank sweat and never setting suns. Home of no work to be had and many mouths to feed and wet cheeks and dirty hands of old woman still walking to back breaking jobs and pig and politician sounding like the same thing. Of bruises that blossom constantly on tiny torn up faces. I seen a child that carried the saddest eyes I ever saw. Sick watery things turned up in search of answers to questions that can't possibly be asked by a mind still acquiring self, still growing into something weathered relinquished and used up, less innocent and lost imagination.

alligator grins

i was driving

I was driving somewhat slowly rather riding in the backseat of my parents brand new shiny blue hatchbak compact automobile staring at the truck tires rumbling feet from me beneath a giant commercial beast. I imagaine it must cast shadows on both neighboring lanes of the bridge, us swallowed up inside our pearl blue bug the question becomes can the neighbor see us in the space between the concrete and the guts of the truck. It strecthes on this trip across a short and shallow stretch of water and somehow we never reach the first set of tires on this offensive moaning motor, the size of our car, perhaps wider, black and shining as if melting in the insane Florida sun. But we do reach the tires and slowly after much ado we slide by them with a quick burst of gusto only a quaint car can muster we reach the cab, slowing only for a moment before speeding on to new experience. A glimpse of the driver and thank god only for a moment, how strange to see the man.

in out

OR

a defining moment

I stand by my window, watch my hands smoke. All the use of fingers and lips invade my mind and I'm feeling very plummy and ripe. There's no light save for the street lamp playing in as faint lines. Everything transfers to black and white. Even olive skin turns alabaster like every little girls wanting. Sweet Thing dancing on the air, it sways. Looking out the chopped grass is strange in gray. I appreciate this small space between houses. Night squeezes in through this space, through the screen and seduces me into a heady slow. Inhale exhale. Lips barely move lest they disturb the drum sounding in my ears, my chest, distant steady rhythmic it goes. I wish I had film for this moment and that I were not myself, but here to take photos of a woman's sharp profile, only half visible next to the red end of her cigarette. It glows alone in the soft searching of the orange street lamp, white by the time it reaches her window. Everything loses color here, even the bright clasping silk turns, sucked dry by the darkness. There's an ease to it to be desired, needs no speaking of. Like the long swan neck. Is time lost here too, it wouldn't be beyond believing. Blissfully alone I wonder if it's possible for the world to intrude on a moment like this. If it's possible for an offense to take place during one of these junctures. I can't see myself being robbed or raped here, hanging on the edge of my mysterious time challenging sill. I am untouchable, unseen. I listen for ripples in the weave of sound outside. But hear only my own ruffling.