inane seagull squak and squalor at the brew pub
some sort of soccer reunion from years i wish to forget
for women i wish i had never met
i drink several beers i wish i hadn't had the nerve to
sip whiskey
watch muted basketball replays
wonder if i'm a replay
or what i'd sound like muted
wish i had a coaster underneath me all the time
to soak up all the b, s, & t
read a little slip of the ginger
man enough for me
seagulls squak another pitcher down the gutter
love it
hate it
reminds me of the city dump

now relaxed in smoke and cyber bliss
impossible missions
dark basements
little white pills for stiff muscles
a fine meal for lonely stomaches like mine

too bad about that heart of yours
the one with all the problems
talking to itself
murmuring about that spiral staircase wrapped around the inside of your dreams
the one the rainbows waltz up and down and up again
in the mornings after mamosa and chatter on the last night's sin and squeeze
shameless like sheep's head and onion soup

a drop of sweat on the forehead of some scripture
two oceans lost at a bend in the cliche
paper cliche like the man in the phone booth next to you
your childhood thinks it knows
like the memory of silk
or the taste of mango in the sun
and when i go i hope it's toast
about mid-morning