moving on up to the fourth floor

it has been decided that the green carpet on the third floor must be changed, since its been there since the 70s.

while theyre at it, theyre going to give us brand new desks and work stations.

they too are calling it a comeback, basically.

spring cleaning.

rebirth.

recharge.

remix.

so this week everyones been boxing up the stuff on their desk and moving

to a new part of the building

that had been used primarily for filming tv shows and commercials and movies

i will miss you desk in the middle of the hurricane

and view of the lapd hq and spring street

cubicle 4B33,

youve met yr match.

call it a comeback

when did i give up on the dream?
when did i become a victim?
i aint no freakin victim.

nobody wants me to be a victim.

not even those who intentionally do stuff

they wanna see me bounce back.

they wanna hear me say is that all you got.

true story: my first party with the daily nexus, the college paper that taught me everything
the big brash editor was wasted, comes over to me, slurring, saying
yr the future

then he put his tongue down my ear.

i pushed him away.

where the hell am i i thought with my dumb smile and stupid sweatshirt.

and glow in the dark leopardskin high tops.

turned out i was in the future.

cuz six months later, in that exact same spot,
the editor, my hero, hit me in the face.
drunkenly and uncalledfor
but i took it
not sure how, maybe just shock, but out of my mouth something slipped:

that all you got?

and when he blinked,
i licked his ear
and skated into the darkness of isla vista.

wheres that guy?
who doesnt love that guy?
when exactly did i put that guy into storage?

teenage girls used to beg to be near me.

secretaries of states used to go out of their way to smile next to me

hillary clinton and a very young busblog at ucsb storke plaza 1992

i know why the caged bird sings
his fearful trill for the distant hill.

its time to give him
something worth singing.