Change Room

Van found his way back to the changing room along the grey tunnel lined with crates and cables that lay in stacks and bundles. He occasionally passed a uniformed navy-clad stage-hand scurrying this direction or that carrying some piece of equipment, but he barely noticed them. Presently, all of his faculties were concentrated in his legs which transported his sagging torso along its bee-route, sparing a bit of energy every few seconds to raise the bottle of water to his parched and gaping mouth. Continue reading

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jazz quartet life

 

I hear a tight jazz quartet

smacking out lead-bottomed bass

tinkling a shaker and half-open hi-hat

some soft-fingered ivory tickling

peppered with a gritty groan

and cigarette smoke

i think to myself:

why can’t life be just like that?

 

conflict

 

my cock gets hard when the phone rings

It’s her! It’s her!” my mind calls out in excitement

my heart is shocked that my cock is hard

he’s offended, and like an anal roommate he yells

Shut up and sit down, you idiot! You’ll ruin everything!”

my cock is the best friend who always tries

to hit on your date. He says in response,

YOU’LL ruin everything. Go to sleep and let me handle it.”

all the while my mind tries to decide what to say on the phone

 

muscle car

 

I wish that I had a muscle car when I was a teenager

just so I could say those manly words:

I had me a muscle car when I was a teenager”

as it is, I have to settle for my present best:

I crashed my grandmother’s car in a ditch

and had to use my mother’s SUV”

or my second favourite:

I live in a van. Want to see it?”

you would not be surprised by how many times

the latter phrase has gotten me lucky

and the former has not

 

games

 

playing games with people is fun

anyone who tells you it is not

does not know how to have fun

when I was a child I played games

with rocks and sticks, then toys and trinkets

then videos and joysticks, action figures

playing games with people is so much more fun

because you never know what they are going to do

you do most of the time, but not always

there’s also the risk of hurting one’s feelings

then case you get to play the follow-up game:

keep-a-way from the one you fucked over

 

alleys

 

alleys are more interesting to walk than streets

streets give you the cookie-cutter, suburbanite facade

from the street you see what people want you to see

the alley is full of trash, old mattresses,

starved, forgotten dogs choking themselves

on leashes tied to poles in the backyard

and always the callous cats and crows look on

you can never tell if they’re bemused or simply indifferent

it is a cruel world

the alleys are a buffet of suburbanite sewage

where all the pleasant income is excreted on the concrete

to be picked through or cleared away

by people who can’t afford pretentiousness