Untitled
A bunch of loose ends.
A Complete Inventory of Every Lyric I Have Misheard in the Past 24 Years:
Life will be ecstasy, you and me and Leslie.
The man in me will do literally any task.
What I See On Morning Walks in Golden Gate Park:
People on runs
People on bikes
Children with helmets
Parrots in eucalyptus
A caution taped swing
A Priest with an earring
Daffodils
Gerber Daisies
Statues
Dogs off leash
Dogs on leash
People doing tai chi
Busses
Row boats
A drunk on a bench
Women pushing strollers
Red light
Green light
Walk sign
A church
Traffic
Bite Me:
It is weird to think that the same mouth that bites a burger and says bad words when you stub your toe is the same mouth that kisses me and could give me CPR.
Panhandling for Love:
Jim Morrison says “she lives on Love street.”
I live on Fell Street, so I wonder who lives on In Street?
This wondering of mine was interrupted when a man in a sombrero tried to get you to buy me a rose. The sombrero man had a white bucket full of red velvet roses that were competing with the red light for our (your) attention.
The sombrero man came up to your barely cracked driver side window practically singing, “Rosa Rosa Rosa”
You kept your eyes on the stoplight and your hands on the wheel. I wanted a rose, not to give a median panhandler money, but because I wanted to have to figure out what to do with the thorny stem in the passenger seat. I wanted a rose because I would have gotten to see you reach for your wallet and roll down the window and trade a dollar for a rose. I wanted a rose because I would smell it and press it against my nose and my lips… then I would probably plant one on you and then the car behind us would honk because during the exchange of dollar for rose the stop light became a go light.
But you did not buy me a rose and the light turned green and no one honked. I watched a cardboard palm tree fall out of the rearview mirror. The sombrero man disappeared faster than a February heat wave.
You changed the radio station while your four wheel tin box gained speed. The world outside the car got blurry and kept falling behind us. All I could think about was that maybe if I lived on love street would you have bought me a rosa rosa rosa?
Hair of the Dog:
Her apartment felt as though it shrunk in the wash of the evening. Pairs of shoes scattered, empty tea mugs, and half read magazines were signs of life elsewhere. Signs of life from a day or two or five ago. She put on a cream colored itchy wool sweater that made her crave the feeling of well oiled teak wood and thick salty air and the company of a lighthouse and the song of fog horns.
Another Kind of Prayer:
If I were God and we met I would say things like,
“Call me blah blah blah, my friends call me blah blah blah.”
The world I made would have eucalypticals so Koalas can maintain their figures.
Mailmen would be named Bill.
Lunch breaks would be called happy hour because hungry hearts would be few and far between.
Nobody would go to bed lonely because that is what guardian angels are for.
If I were God, rugs would be cheaper and life would be sillier because wishes spent on dandelions and eyelashes would always come true.
Three legged dogs would be mayors and we would play catch with blimps.
We would be a lot happier because the only rule to follow is that we have to watch the sunset at least once a day.
In my name blah blah blah we pray amen.
