poem of the day 10.23.13

crying over kerouac…again

i wanted to do some damage

deep down i wanted damage

i had four scotch and waters on the rocks at vieni vieni

as 1970s cop shows played on the tv

and some blonde kept glaring at me

because she probably thought

that i was some kind of tourist poseur

and i probably was to her

drinking in her dive bar

on the recommendation of a writer

whose first book was sitting in my bag

but i wanted damage

i was on my way to damage

because i understood car wrecks

better than the passive ocean

so the scotch and waters kept coming

i watched the blonde glaring at me

as old man heads fell like soldiers

on the battlefield

another day shot to shit

and i left vieni vieni giving the blonde

a smug drunken look of significance

as she did shooters of some brown poison

meant to help her forget her life

and in the hotel room was a bad bottle of red wine

which got drunk to baseball games

to the chatter of chinatown

and car horns blaring down broadway, san francisco

while i thought about where i was

where i was going

six months to forty years old

with the hangovers getting no easier

the poems getting no better

my belly hanging over my belt

life a brick wall on every garbage strewn street

and inside vesuvio’s café i went

considering damage

considering pictures of jack kerouac

hanging on the wall

young and vibrant

holding cigarettes

holding court

his eyes wide with angelheaded hipster majesty

and i looked at them while jazz played

while sucking down sweet dark and stormy

after sweet dark and stormy

damage

thinking jack you fool

jack you fucking fool

you could’ve made it through the storm

jack

until i felt it well up in me again

like an ancient volcano coming to life

my vesuvius in vesuvio’s

waterworks for a dumb, dead ghost

crying over kerouac

again

and again

and again

as my wife sat there staring into the black neon

of west coast glory

holding my hand

the sick blubbering husband of her youth

until the waitress came over and shook our glasses

asking that eternal question

care for another round?