poem of the day 06.15.11

should’ve stayed in bed

awoke into a cold heat
sent the poems out
the poems going out to the radio
thoughts of hemingway
thoughts of fante
thoughts of hank and kerouac
they made it
while i simply fell incognito
into this picasso
biography at my side

drank the wine
fondled the beer cans
in the fridge
drank the good red wine
and decided to walk five miles
five miles in the sun
realizing ten blocks away that
i was drunk before noon
and couldn’t take another step
drunk before noon is a revelation
only not when you’re on the way
to work

took the bus
that sweet piss-scented chariot
took the bus with america’s future
clogging up the seats
their heads buried in cell phones
and video game machines
looking at them
at the old ladies they made stand
in the aisles
with canes and shopping bags
those white haired, frail patriots
who’ve seen it all
but still expect a seat

those christian soldiers
who refuse to die and meet their lord

and i wondered if anyone else
was reading a biography of picasso
or was on a strict diet
of cheap french red before noon

this is my protest
this is what works for me

listened to music
from rock and roll bands
whose members could almost
be my children
i’m a silly gray man who’s high on wine
listening to rock and roll music
on a mid-day bus
but the music serves its purpose
it passes time to time
in such a careful way
music always does

even though nearly every genre of it
has failed me at one time or another

saw the sun
that obnoxious cow
heard the birds
those lazy cunts
and realized that summer was
on the way
with its beaches, picnics, and fireflies

it is always a dreadful time for me
being a human being
when the summer comes

i simply cannot stand
all of that yellow happiness
and watermelon

went to the job
and the electric company cheered
the cable company sent me
a thank you note
the student loan people brought
a young female by
only i had to refuse
because of too much red wine

as always, the phone company
never called

stayed at the job
stayed at the desk
read the fake news of the world
war, debt, destruction,
and this weekend’s box office results
only i felt caged reading the news
being at that desk
i felt neutered
wanted to pace my little box
and grab everyone around me
to ask them
is this really it?

but they’ll just tell me
that i’ve been drinking too much again
and i’ll say, only enough
to protect my plastic soul

and she is on the evening bus
in tight black shorts
with a bikini top
and he is on the bus looking at her
and when they both get off
at the same stop
i wonder if we’ll all make
the eleven o’clock news

on the couch
on the couch as the sun sets
with the wife
scotch after scotch after scotch
but i feel english
or i feel nothing
i let the fan blow my face
as millionaires toss balls
on television screens

i use that picasso biography as a coaster

and when i go to bed
in the blistering cold
waiting to do this all over again
i hope i feel as bloated
as a squid filled with black ink.