sounds good on the laptop

got the hot set up now.
layin on j's bed, lookin out the window
down the bayuo, curves
stars, birds. change of view
portishead on the pandora
the loud fan in my engine
mercifully quiet. distance to read
just about right. no pain in my back
stretched out, typing. i don't need to see the keys
just the results here on the page. backspace is automatic.

i need a new wallet.
drum circle tonight. someone's birthday,
remind me glass is a liquid.
release this energy. i cnan see why
jake might have got stuck here.
it's kinda relaxing. light the joint. raise the blinds
if i had something delicious beside me
life would be perfect for the moment.
momentary perfection fills the hope, then dashes it.
hunger as a innovator. taste as talent.




so i will try now to go where you lead
to the pasts we didn't have
together
yet how do i know the taste of snow
on my lips, her kiss, the way our bodies titled
on that alley we found after we got lost
wandering frisco.
love in the time of  watermelon .

sincei began writign again, i've been mostly present
tense. memories are mostly painful my aunt
brings em back or tries to use them for leverage and i
don't know how to take her. she's talking but i'm not sure
i want to know how she saw it.
she knew my mom. she knew what went on
lived with us for six months of pregnancy
same as ms hoity toity auntie, even though
the baby wasn't hers. she lived with our house
those years i've forgotten. i want to call her
and say tell me your memories from that time
but i might stir up too much trouble. or find out
i was right to surpress them. lol. i'd like to believe
i had a typical childhood, mostly bothered only
by a bit of neglect, cuz i was the middle of three close babes
and everything so tired the second time. not the last of course.
the last time everything's special again. i dunno.
i always just felt like i didn't belong. like i was adopted
like i was a bad kid, a bad seed. to have her introduce
the idea that my own perceptions were actually responses
to way i was actually treated almost begs a complete break.
why not just say it was my karma and be done.
i don't wish i had more because , well, i guess
i lost that idea after second grade. anyway, it seems
i got the room by myself a lot. i don't remember
much about the times i had to share. i'm sure my sis's
didn't like being the sharer, but they liked the alone time.
brady bunch we were not. my mom didn't like florence
henderson cuz she had a maid and mullet.





















)****





so everyday we'd walk home from school and i don't remember walking
with my sisters. how is it all my memories are about being alone?
it was several long blocks. sometimes i still dream that neighborhood
but changed, as if i know it's much later in life ane there are streets
sprung up and pathways changed but in actuality  there was white flight
and crack moved in and the streets aren't safe like they were
when banana seat bikes could be dropped on your friend's front lawn
and no one would take it. dunno why we didn't have bikes.
we'd just moved from a smaller town, spent a month in the motel
waiting for our house to be ready. it wasn't even new. we didn't
get to see it before hand. the driveway was curved. dad put a basketball
hoop above the garage. two elms in the front yard. a kumquat tree
at the end of the driveway. shrubs between us and the only child
whose doberman pinscher barked at us for ten years. but she
was our friend , singly and in bunches, come play with me
no play with me no play with me i;m not playing with you two was that
me or them? and why do i even think that way?

i dunno. the minefields of memory. maybe i don't call her.
i shudder to think what my daughter's are.