poem of the day 12.04.10

here is where nowhere begins

caught up in the land where
old chinese women
clank recycled bottles all night
in the late autumn breeze

where they blare their television sets
through thin painted walls

and dumb bitches have
pointless conversations
underneath the streetlights
by our bedroom window

smoking and shouting into
their cell phones
like pampered little stars

here is where something ends

and we sit on the couch
dead from another eight hours
a shot of scotch in my tea
nothing in yours

taking in the malaise of the night

talking about getting out again

buffalo
pittsburgh
cleveland
st. louis and denver

we think that maybe california
is where it’s at

but california is broke too

we say no
to new orleans and san francisco
because we don’t want to taint them
with the cruel regularities of life

we want to keep them crystal
in our minds

los angeles
san diego

minneapolis
milwaukee
even london, paris, and madrid

this is fun

a momentary escape from the lackluster
and excruciating now

but this is unsustainable fantasy
and we know it

because the clock is ticking toward
another day

and the chinese women
clank bottles and cans
out of vengeance and need

they echo in the night
until they hurt our bones

trucks idle for an eternity

conversations in the cold linger on
and get nowhere

the tea cups empty as they must

we look at each other
with worn-out eyes and thin smiles

and i think

here is where nowhere begins

again