1. Tuesday, January 25, 2005

    “i bet i dont get into rad school” 

    tommy burrowed himself into

    the weird nightmare

    oblivious to pipes being banged as warnings

    deaf to the shouts of encouragements

    equipped only with a cassette copy of motely crue’s

    too fast for love,

    a loosely rolled collection of

    mexican shake humbolt green sticky nice

    and twigs

    and a daypack filled with dozens of soft and melting

    milky way dark candy bars

    a chinese tune ching chung chwanged in his head

    and then crazy drums

    and he swore he could hear his mother calling out to him

    as he made stoney love to his fiancee

    while a muted tenor blew

    and cherry blossoms floated

    down

    down

    upon his sweaty white pimpley scratched back.

    her name was elisa and she was sixteen

    16.

    six Teen. Jeeze!

    6 + teen

    i am sixteen

    she screamed

    i screamed

    he had other things to do with his time

    like nothing

    so he did it.

    brevity.

    brevity my ass the colon argued

    i dont care how nice you thought those two plops wound up

    how strong and straight and clean and perfect

    they became and are

    and wont be.

    we still have something that needs to come out

    inside me.

    and elisa said what is it

    tommy took out a melted bar of candy

    and rubbed it all over himself

    and then another

    and then one more

    he walked over to a hive where the hornets lived

    looked at elisa and kicked the hive

    and then kicked it again

    it fell

    some pissed hornets flew out

    and then just like at a jewish wedding tommy stepped

    right ontop of that hive and squooshed it flatlike

    sometimes in weird nightmares the shadow just wants to

    chase not catch you

    the dark wants to scare not kill you

    evil wants to play not eat you

    and girls want to sex not love you

    she was sixteen with the finest blonde hair

    and perfect lips

    sixteen going on

    sixteen

    and that fine hair was so light that when

    it fell over her eyes

    you could see her close

    and then

    open them

    butterscotch windshade palms on my shoulderblades

    airconditioned tv room downstairs its nearly noon

    dancing like an imbecile, huffing like a dirty muffler

    dressed up like a roman disco

    laughing like a broken hiccup

    this guy hates me + so does this guy + she loves me