Light

There. Right there. There is a street light hiding behind a tree. It casts no shadows onto the dew sprinkled grass beneath it. Beyond the light the trees look like a black wall. Or an endless abyss. It seems as If I were to walk towards the wood I would fall off the face of the earth. Fall to feel the nothingness that is non existence, of non being, of dreamless sleep. To think I could walk away from my cold park bench and head straight towards the end of everything, the beginning of everything. To fall weightless and unseeing, to feel nothing. The idea of bliss, the idea of nothing, the thought of feeling no more anything. Scary, is it not? No, I do not want to feel nothing, I want to feel everything at once! Every joy, every pain, every raindrop and dew fall the waking world has to give me. Because walking off into nothingness is a cop out.

So for now I have my cold park bench. I can feel the dew settling on me now, as I ponder nothingness and bliss, not feeling the very things I said I wanted to feel. And so goes the human condition. So knock off the silly day dreams and start living. Live life as if every breath is an erotic celebration in it's own right. Or live life erotic-ly. To each her own.

As I smoke

As I toke my cigarette I look for animals in the lacing smoke. Or better yet, your lovely face, your face might hide in that long forgotten place. Passing me and not seeing.

I drink flavorless water to get rid of that horrid taste.

I look down at my feet and see my white and pink striped socks showing themselves over the brim of my low ups. I also notice how nice the white of my socks looks agents the tanned olive skin of my ankle.

From my ankle my eyes move over the lines of my legs. From the curves of my calf to the straight line of my shin and from my shin to my knee, and thigh. From my thigh to my full hips and from there to my slightly tucked waist. And from waist to breasts. I know if I were to stand I would not be able to see my feet because of them. Above the line of my breasts is my collarbones, long and thin in the way they are. As I look from my collarbones to my arms I see how muscular they have become from all the manual labor I have been participating in. My shoulders and triceps are stronger than they have ever been. All the better to hold you to me. My forearms are lean and feminine yet strong and unyielding.

Seeing myself this way I think of how unimaginably teenaged I must look to the outside world. With my long side braided hair, dark denim cut-offs that show off my tan skin, graffiti Converse and over sized black Joey Ramone t-shirt. I would die before someone mistook me for a common high-schooler. 

I feel the smoke soaking into the lining of my lungs. It feels the way it feels when your words flow into my mind. Every letter falling into place lining up and making a sentence as wise and deep and sexy as they have ever been.

But as I take one of the last puffs I feel the heat of the smoke move through the filter and hit my lips. Not only is it time to put out the joint, it is also time to stop dueling on useless things. That is, my body won't be totally useless,  not to you.

Saddam to Gomorrah

In the big black city where the women are so pretty
I found a man, who upon me, would take pity
Walking alone, looking for a payphone, the road to sin was shown
He walked up, with his Coonhound pup, and handed me a cup
In it was the devil's juice, and with it I was put to good use
Fast cars, bad bars, the only thing that man didn't have was mars
Hey, Doll face, how did you end up in a place like this?
I had a rough night, I ain't looking for a fight, but, babe, if you're not careful we just might
From Saddam I went to Gomorrah and found a man, hair like fire and many to inspire
But when the Angeles of god came down and bread with the women, we all went swimming
That man and I, it felt like we could fly

Garbage Man

Tricksy Pixie Garbage Man!
You drive by and wave your hand!
I wave back from where I stand!
Tricksy Pixie Garbage Man!