May 2009
32 posts
I get blinded by the blonde of your body hair, much like the Predator did when Gary Busey put on that tin foil suit in the second movie.
Your naked shadow, stirring a little as I creep to the toilet late at night, is how I define bliss.
For lunch, we sat out in the fine mist little realizing our sandwiches went waterlogged as our conversation on mail merge became pivotal.
‘Who’s a nasty son of a bitch!’ said the disgruntled nanny in sing song as she took photos of the baby. ‘Now pose slutty like your mother.’
My roomba creates pretty swirls as it bumps like a drunkard across the room. I chase him with a real vacuum. I’ll name him Branwell Bronte.
The plastic covering of the stacked mattresses ballooned under the sun. Even on this day of sales, furniture alley remained desolate.
Home sweet home sweet old New York, where the homeless are less prone to grope and the roommates steal your light bulbs while you’re away.
I saw the best books of my generation fall toward me in a hysterical avalanche as I raise my 5’ 4” frame & topple the City Lights bookcase.
They followed us to the Golden Gate Bridge, without acknowledgement. Our relationship forever emblazoned in the backgrounds of their photos.
‘I know what you want,’ he grabbed my crotch. ‘Is that a wedding ring?’ I asked. Dean nodded and proceeded to tell me about his wife & kids.
The AC transit driver spent ten good minutes explaining how to get to the show in Oakland. He then left me before I could even pay the fare.
I lost my moleskine stepping out of the ferry, near the embarcadero Bart. If found please contact me for fierce blow job or cash equivalent.
I read The Call of the Wild next to Jack London’s deathbed, with no notice of the rattlesnake until I saw the sign. My calling was to run.
She tried to describe Napa as we crossed the plaza in Sonoma. ‘It’s a strip mall!’ yelled an eavesdropper. ‘Say it! Say it!’
On Stinson beach, the old Grateful Deadhead shook his head at the traffic. ‘Where are all the cops?’ he asked. I shook my head as well.
The girl returned to her seat, 20b, but found 20c had fallen fast asleep. She remained standing until the next set of turbulence.
The confused little girl looked me up and down. ‘Boy or girl?’ she asked, and I replied. She shrugged and handed me one of her barrettes.
She scratched her arm, forgetting both her cigarette and her graduation gown, but reminded herself she still had much to learn.
We (the girl in the dress, the guy with the hair and the boy without) each offered her our seat. She smiled toothless. No one sat back down.
Artist Jun Nguyen-Hatsushiba is running the diameter of the Earth, drawing patterns with his GPS as he goes. Via THEME. http://bit.ly/53hEy
One cool hand on the chest, another behind the ear makes two. That third limb starts from the ankle. The warmth travels slowly up your knee.
They took their annual walk in Central Park. ‘Your dress wouldn’t look so unfortunate,’ said her mother, ‘If it weren’t for gravity.’
‘I’m so glad I don’t live in SoHo anymore,’ announced the blonde, tanned woman to the lonely streets. She walked around the block once more.
I approached baring my guns. ‘You been working out?’ he asked, squeezing my bicep. I shook my head. ‘It’s swollen from a mosquito bite.’
All smiles, the girl leaned over the railing. ‘We good right?’ She asked. ‘It’s kicking,’ said her lady, rubbing her own belly. They kissed.
Uncle Markie popped his bubble gum on my lips, then picked up the call from his nephew. ‘Johnny why don’t your brother talk to me no more?’
Each time I looked away, the naked man went straight for his own penis. So I stared helpless right at his crotch, warding away eager hands.
I rushed to my coat hanging near the entrance. ‘Left this on Saturday,’ I said to the clerk. ‘I’m not stealing.’ He had no doubt until then.
He stopped beneath the sign but didn’t notice until he slammed the door open on the pole, shattering the window, that it said No Parking.
The kids passed by the boys. ‘Have a splendid evening gentlemen,’ said one. Their teacher saves lives one sarcastic comment at a time.
The two old men rested next to the swaying palm tree, saturating with the rain out of the canvas and onto the pavement.
I was there when the copier jammed her original & when the door slammed on her gut. Upon seeing me she growls now, like a good Pavlov bitch.