lightning tattoo

he didn't want to be like
them he wanted to be like himself
which turns out is more like granddad
than dad. too baad no one's joining me
at the poetry chat room. tonite

at the poetry spoken word thang
not too many showed up. plus my stuff
was way over their head. lol
most of it's over mine. or undre
doesn't make a lot of sense
to the uninitiated. i had to read one
pome twice cuz i read it too fast...

but anyway, the crowd:
craig: mid aged man who can turn out a poem
in minutes. didn't write for years and then the ex
took all that he had saved, from the army, all
those memories of nam and tossed em. good i say.
now you have to write more. reads a piece
that's political, and would only be passable as a song
but it's heartfelt. you know?

then i read something, tarotttt.
he didn't get it, i think.
only vera did, being privy to the dance.
, there were only the two of them...

then vera read kerouac, and i finally saw
what she saw in him with his description
of a bowl of mushroom soup. hunger...

then some more ppl came in
cynthia and jessica. mervin ushered
them in. i am all into names tonite!
remembering them.

craig:
fishing cap and grey stubble
hiding scruffy hair. torn jeans
aviator glasses hidden eyes
bitter. cliche rider. i have to be
more observant. first time reading out.
reticent. i could tell you what this man's
life was like, but i couldn't describe him.

wild boy in skool, went in the army. survived.
bout with drugs, the needle. some talent with guitar
he met a woman and married her. they split
bitterly about a year ago. his empty life
faces him. he could write country songs
all day long. who will listen. his apt
haunts him, his kids never call.






jessica: wants a man, want's a bad boy
but there's none here tonite. i knew this
was a bad idea, jesus cynthia what have
you got me into with your poetry
and you didn't bring none to read? it would
be better than listening to this stuff
this is poetry?


cynthia: wants fame. i'm from miami
and the hip hop crowd is big down there.
i wanted to check this out cuz i live near here.

mervin: wants a hip hop crowd. red headed, pale
madonna skin.

man, my writing skillz are gonnnne.
it's like i can't get enough interest in the ppl
to scope out their lives.

the last guy with no name. speaks softly. wears
a do rag. intermitable pome with sparks of insite.
about a crack mom, or rather a series of crack moms
i think. something about 12 seasons by four.
i didn't quite get it. teak skin. ja rule hair.
gold edge teeth givin up the life
cuz he comin off the life
his companion young white woman
supportive. i wonder if this is therapy nite.

i read my gulag pome. apples oranged.
they don't get it.

why should they? vera reads kerouac.
the highlite of the evening.
writes advice as thomas wolfe ,
talking to the young author.
himself at 21. i think of justin.

now, justin thinks it's not over.
but i know it is. i gave him some hope.
ok we can see each other \when you get
your shit together. not good enough?
too bad. i dunno what to tell you boy.
i cant do it any other way.
i love you, but i don't need you.
sigh.
my feet ache. puffy. the lightning
comes down from the industrial steel sky.
tampa's under the drum , and it's banging
our bones. gotta put the top up on the bug.
it's gonna rain.