go home
get drunk
and write about it
he tells me
smoking a cigarette
on the backporch
coming home to
messages from
the woman with the red door
I lay on the floor
with a smile
finally
picking On the Road
out of San Francisco's hands
with a hug
goddamn her
looking so beautiful on
such a cloudy day
washing face
in speckled mirror
rose colored cheeks
rose colored glasses
still sitting
from last fall
roses blooming
the poetry
a mess
like passing reflections













Comments
John, you are AMAZING.
--
7 out of every 4 people will have trouble with fractions.
--
one half of ~ZombiesAteUs
--
i love you, said ophelia, and i love that dark bird you hold in your arms.
big sur
1958
you are fantastic
--
We wrote our names down on the sidewalk
But the rain came and washed them off
So we should write them again on wet cement
So people a long time from now will know what we meant
--
And the pen scribbled forever more
--
saliva always tastes
different depending on who's
mouth it comes from - Lotuskid
Though you hold me still,
I shudder like the thunderstorm Miseria-Cantare
--
m_ike
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