149 Readings | 0 Ratings

New Years

12/31/1985 (10/28/2014)


People keep handing me

Books I borrow them lasciviously

I hold them so tight (sit here)(napkin)

But I can’t read anymore


I peak (tablecloth white linen, lace)

At him and seek (water glass)

Intimacy and I’s and a scratch

Of blue tenor sax (dinner music)

Across my pedestrian wrists

And manic hips (bourbon and beer)

I could say I’ve overcome a neurosis (zinfandel, please)


I could say I wrote a poem

in that Laundromat

You were there (brunch, brunch, brunch)

Next to Nobody’s Inn on 24th Street and Castro

Us regulars go back & forth; the washer, the dryer,

the alcohol, the coffee, the cigarette

I only have one at a time


So I said yes yes yes yes

You cannot do what it is that you deal

Sedentary psychosis, walking schizophrenia

(cheese & crackers)


I says you (I says) (to myself)

Probably think you are

the cause of it all (melonball)

but you’re not (squash)

It’s only me (onion)

here even (dill)

I thought you were fishsticks


I wrote it all out (croutons)

Of her seductive malicious castrating

Anger (rare beef, split peas)

He says I, Lambie Pie,

Goulash goulash goulash

What a friend, I says half (bouillabaisse)

Wondering what he meant

In being (German pastry)

So kind what he meant (leftovers)


I told him about the guy in the corner store

Who reminded me of this guy

who offered to buy my Winstons

I said no (save the soup) I’m a big girl

I pay for my self


He wrote that I can get away (to go)

From dying and daddy

(butter pat)

he told me about flowers

how you can eat them

he said salad


Him was all I came up with (gourd)

(meat) (a meal)

(course after course)

and a poem

not delicious the heart (full)

says these things

alone the new year (centerpiece)


silly lips (sherbet)

you smile and laugh

and you are sensitive (seconds?)

to this you know

what I mean (dishes)

When I can’t scream I sing


With drugs you do not

know what went wrong

a tasteful human has turned


burning the mouth

cutting fingers

all bruising and dirty

dirty dirty dirty dirty


brain and tongue burritos

meet and breathe

the best of us waiting at the table

or in tipping, stand—

clear the pallet, deal the cards

I would die for another roll


Posted 03/27/15
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