3 dates

gen x date

(08/25/


good conversation is better than bad sex
but it's still a one night stand.

i lost my pipe. you're all about coke
but i'm not into the addiction dance.
except my meds. accept my meds.

the halo of missing hair
skin dimpled dryly into post bimbo.

as a member of the russian mafia
you ran packages of great worth
to men of huge stature
inside cloistered circles.
they dealt in weaponry, cars and drugs.
you wanted all of it. your aryan hair
your bottled eyes your willow leaf arms.

suddenly you find yourself in a low rent mexican joint
drinking tequilla, thinking of nice, how close it is to milan
where your wine orgasm waits, the virginity of the taste
akin to the escargot before my divorce.

we've decided, on seperate occasions, that what happens
tonite stays here. words bounce off the screen
rumble in the air, are picked up by the television,
disappeared like a hooker into a red taurus holding
a bald man with a twenty. he asks for change.

out in the parking lot your poetry is electronic.
i critique it. you say you vomit the stuff, it means
nothing. i get the sense you want some meaning somewhere
and when you get it, you'll dismiss it immediately
tho god lingers somewhere beyond chemicals
you can't see it, and thinking about it hurts your head.
i'm on some spiritual journey with a fedora, a tie
and hard shoes, all in black.


you like the music i made.
you say. hunched on haunches outside the car door
smoking a bummed cigarette.

























boomer date #2 [-]

(08/25/07 10:51:46)



you are a gentleman, i can tell
but your soon to be ex can't.
thirty years in a toxic relationship
and she's the one with the problem
i can relate to being mentally exhausted
i was there, only the gender's reversed.

so you did the dancing thing too? all those fresh
faces mumbling behind their hands at least
you had the courage to confront the laughter
dance on dancer. me, i go where the cost is least
sink or swim and they don't even see how i don't belong
after the alcoholic haze. don't tell you how i used
to try to sneak my underage bf a gin & tonic
as you begin to outline the benefits of networking
and myspacey agey. i checked out your site beforehand
and yeah, i've been there, differently. can 't seem
to be impressed. that you were at woodstock
only annoys me. but you're still into peace i gotta admit
that's better than the last guy who took me to sushi
also a boomer, but enmeshed in the MIC. i relate
that experience to you so that you, like me, know
our conspriacy theories are anything but paranoid.
peaceniks gotta have our validations.
i get in your car, risky? naw, you merely want to show me
where you dance. fifteen dollah cover and the line's out
the door, you assure me, tho tonite, in the rain, on a tuesday
it looks as desperate as you or i.














whenever it's full




then go. after what
is the sink in your heat.

trialogic parsecs blinded by.
currents and the next dose of hormones.

tomorrow i'll wake with lower expectations
than today. but that's just the morning talking.

by midday the melanin kicks in and i'm all
damn these lines are etched. smile woman.

outside it's suck on a smoke
with the woman deciding divorce or counseling.

i offer tobacco and an ear. wonder what she
uses on her face. another day is another day.

i''m grieving it's true. not like you but i'm getting
closer. last fall i saw leaves burned with internal sugars.

this one, i'll be lucky to sing happy birthday.
the one who became the flesh bullet wonders

how long to go on before throwing the towel
into the mildewed spa. traipsing past a lost wallet

with hells too high to wear as a belt. understands
that a taxi ride takes a lot out of a minimum wage wallet.

so i drive. the sky is not as black
as what i'm moving toward.