|
werewolf
|
Brightly loudly VH1 turns off
And a black shrinking white dot shush provides too frightful
A moment of silence.
The room is full of wooden ducks and tweed basket chairs
And the other room an untuned piano.
Going out later, for an excursion to Vegas, not flying anywhere
Driving, staying at a hotel. Ill drink with my friends,
Until my intelligence is at a level appropriate to my station.
Well do something that will almost get us arrested.
And well laugh about it after the hangovers tomorrow.
We'll sit around the pool with headaches in Vegas around tourists and also trophy Wives who are reading classic literature and pretending they aren't dulled, periodically checking their parabolic breastlines to make sure they are even.
On the drive there, a pop song is on the radio
And it fills me.
Put in a cd, switch in another.
Maybe Ill get tired of all these cds.
Only way to know for sure is to keep buying them.
Theres hope in buying more and never knowing,
Which one will be too much.
Got work tomorrow though. No time to sillify myself
Over this meaning or that. Not like that bum on the corner, who I see now with saintlike eyes and obvious addictions.
Bums have either their mind or nothing, and usually neither.
Bums are good for a joke.
When I get there my friends all greet me,
Their faces all a little bit gaunt and all a little bit fat.
|
060823
|
