Wednesday, November 4, 2015

poem of the day 11.04.15


there is nothing going on
top floor of this club
another year dying
people are gyrating to its funeral march
moving like buoys in delicate waves
i drink something sweet and sour
feel my energy gone
last year i was standing in the same spot
fresh from the end of mary and i
scanning this club for cassandra
how she never showed
these distant memories this whole year of drunken regret
but there is still calvin
hooting and hollering in the swell somewhere
ready to start the new year making love to his hand
steve comes by
dude dude his forever greeting
he says, some chick is walking around this place
with a jar of mushrooms
did you take? i ask
yes, he says
drug mushrooms, i say
because steve is bouncing around me sweating
the most he ever pours into his muscled body is beer
no, no, he says negative
how can you be so naïve? i ask
drug free, dude
steve bounces to the music
green day, he shouts, i fucking love green day
i worry he’ll fall over the guardrails
a metaphor for this year in the wilderness
where is calvin? i wonder
hear his hoots from below or someone else as annoying
the way these people move
restless boredom in the groove
the ease of passing from one phase to the next
green day! steve shouts
yes, i tell him i know i tell him fucking green day already
as i kill the rest of my drink
scan this top floor for the promise of love
that i already know from experience
won’t be sitting there
nursing her drink
in anxious wait.                      

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