—NEXT THING YOU KNOW

  

I Don’t Like Mondays

 

She thinks about the girl the song was written about, Brenda, how she’d gunned down her classmates years before the practice became common and in vogue, how they’d asked the sixteen year old killer “Why?” and Brenda had said, “Dunno. Guess I don’t like Monday.”

Swinging into the living room, loopy already, the girl’s father draws lopsided circles in the air with his tumbler empty of scotch and asks, “What’s so funny? You never laugh.”

He’s wrong about so much, correct about so little, but this bit is true.

The girl turns up the volume in her earbuds, the lyrics simple yet complex, a masterclass or blueprint for those in the know. The silicon chip inside her head gets switched to overload.

Her boyfriend is a year younger than her father. Smells like sulfates and peppermints. Hairy knuckles. Always with his fingernail grin. He says he’s her boyfriend undercover of the night, constantly squeezing, pinching, and biting as if she’s a chew toy. Boyfriend teaches Introduction to Chemistry. He could be good at it, but there’s always some experiment going awry, smoke and explosions that no one ever notices until it’s too late. Until it’s them.

—MIGHT AS WELL JUMP

  

…Friday, you sneaky bastard, be good to me today, please.

 

…I get fined a lot, though.

 

…Things that make me feel safe: warmth, books, puppies.

    Things that make me feel unsafe: Satan, T.

 

…Do you believe in signs? I wish I didn’t. 

 

…I’m tired of losing all the time. I forgot what it feels like to be a winner.

 

…Today’s song is “Lullaby.” Probably not the one you think. Until just now, I always thought it was “Rock-a-bye.”

...I definitely have a positive bias when it comes to book readers.

 

…It’s a little unnerving to get a buzzing notice on your watch and not be able to do anything about it other than gaze at the leap or divot of a beat.

 

…The thing is, everybody’s a little full of shit. So, try not to take it personally.

 

…It might not mean anything to you, but it means something to me.

 

…I guess it depends on your definition of close.

 

…Sometimes I’ll read back fragments of weeks-old writing and think, Who the hell wrote that?

 

…Two things I hate: Getting in the shower, and getting out of the shower.

 

…Nobody looks good when things go south, but that’s when you find out who the frauds are.

 

…Somebody’s got to do it, but I’m still sick of companies trying to get me to buy needless stuff. 

 

--Reporter:   “How much of your songwriting is true?” 

--Dylan:         “Let me put it this way: when Johnny Cash sings, ‘I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die,' do you really think he’s a murderer?”

 

…I may be turning into a moody F*&%#.

 

…Ultimately, especially now, it all comes down to the things you care most about, and what you’re willing to do for those things. 

 

…Who doesn’t enjoy a good rocket launch?

 

…It’s pretty easy to find new things to worry about. 

 

…What if there was no “best part” of your day?

 

…Scented soaps are something I miss. Especially citrus, green tea and mango.

 

…Can’t a guy just write what he wants to write?

 

…Twelve days…

 

…Whenever I realize I have to pee, the urgency ramps up by ten. Especially in a car. Especially on a plane that’s just landed.

 

…I’ve never found it harder to be less judgmental than right now.

 

…I don’t know if I really want to know what other people are thinking. Maybe that makes me close-minded.

 

…Listening to my stomach gurgle sometimes is akin to that cassette tape in The Sixth Sense.

 

…I can sometimes go an entire day without saying more than 100 words. Seems like there should be some kind of award for that.

 

…Other than Cinema and History with Leroy Ashby, Environmental Science was my favorite class in college. The professor warned us on the first day that we might get depressed when shown all of the pressing threats to the planet—pollution, overpopulation, starvation, a hole in the ozone… He was right to do so. 

Remarkably, we’ve since fixed some of those problems, while even more glaring ones have emerged. Even though they look daunting, I keep thinking smart people will find solutions eventually. So it was nice, yesterday, to read that scientists have created COF-999, a chemical compound/powder, that can suck carbon dioxide out of the air even better than a tree which, over the course of a year, removes 40 kilograms of CO2. So, yay. A small victory among all the outlying gloom. 

 

…If the planet’s still here in 100 years from now, I wonder if there will still be conflict in the Middle East.

 

…“Who is sitting in that empty chair?” Eugene Ormandy

 

…

On Another Panel About Climate, They Ask Me to Sell the Future and All I’ve Got Is a Love Poem

 

   How rare and beautiful it is that we exist.

What if we stun existence one more time?

The earth remembers everything, our bodies are the color of the earth and we are nobodies.

Been born from so many apocalypses, what’s one more?

Love is still the only revenge. It grows each time the earth is set on fire.

But for what it’s worth, I’d do this again.

Gamble on humanity one hundred times over.

Commit to life unto life, as the trees fall and take us with them.

I’d follow love into extinction.

--Ayisha Siddiqa

 

—CONTENTS MAY HAVE SHIFTED

 

                                                      Wallet

         In my cell phone the woman’s voice is gritty and shifting, a gold miner’s pan, uncertain now about this, her offer to meet me, perhaps dredging up horror movie scares or past ill-fated meetings, but she names a 7/11 in Darien, not far from where I filled the tank and bought a six pack and made a promise to myself that this would be it, no more, even if I was alone with no one to confer.

         I get out of the car sensing an ambush, I’m that disoriented already, from the beer or glare or panic at being late, a flat tire hissing in my head, a trapped bee there.  The sun is scalding, sun is angry, sun is a roiling, boiling mirror.  I get chills and go dizzy as sweat drops spider-crawl to dank places, my pits and groin, the crack of my ass.

         Sign of something in her eyes, something I’ve seen others wearing—fear.

She drops my wallet and back-peddles away.

         I hold it in my hands.  I realize how light it is.  I hear cars on the freeway, trees taking on the wind, gargled music, laughter, a child’s scream.  I close my eyes and let the sun brand me.

—GOT A FREIGHT TRAIN RUNNIN’ THROUGH THE MIDDLE OF MY HEAD 

 

relapse

 

i swallow 

long & deep 

but slow 

like sex 

between inmates 

who have 

nothing

except time 

my wife 

went missing 

but got 

custody nonetheless 

and so here 

we are

my palm on 

your spine 

swaying to Sinatra 

in a swivel chair

you wearing your

smooth red dress 

wrapped in glass 

me three sheets 

ahead of today 

relieved you still 

love me

and know exactly 

what to do 

 —I CAN READ THE WRITING ON THE WALL

  

…I read somewhere that it helps to write things down.

 

…What were all those things I was going to do on a different day?

 

…If you’re asking, I haven’t got anywhere else to be. 

 

…I was up awfully early but still only managed to catch the beaver’s wake.

 

…I wonder what it would be like to be a morning person.

 

…Yesterday, right after dawn, I just sat by window watching it rain for days.

 

…I’ve never seen a rainbow disappear as fast as that one, but maybe it was just the angle I had.

 

…I guess I don’t get it—are all those kids (that aren’t going back) really being homeschooled?

 

…I hear you, and I see you.

 

…There are a lot of ways to tell a story.

 

…What if the person you think is gaslighting you isn’t thinking about you at all?

 

…One of the things I’m most proud of? This…

 

…How can Snoop Dog be everywhere all at once?

 

…You’ve got to love lightning and thunder when it shows up, especially at night, like on Wednesday.

 

…I’m getting pretty good at taking a hint.

 

…One regret is not having asked better questions.

 

…You and I both know what it was.

 

…Ultimately, you can’t fight gravity.

…They give us some nice bright colors…

 

…If you know, you know, and you should know by now.

 

…“What are your intentions?” That’s always a smart question to ask when starting out.

 

…I’m living proof that you can think too much. 

 

…Suspect follow-through is always something to be wary of.

 

…I guess what’s going to happen is going to happen, so there’s no sense in worrying about it, though worrying is naturally rooted in doubt.

 

…I wonder what it means when you don’t want to talk to anyone.

 

…If it seems to be too good to be true, that’s because it is.

 

…I can’t afford any more lost weeks. Can anyone?

 

…It’s not a one-way street, but it definitely feels like I’m driving my lane faster than you are yours.

 

…I tried, but I guess it wasn’t enough.

 

…There’s a million little reasons for why I want you here.

 

…I must finally be growing up, because I’m learning to laugh at bad luck. What else are you going to do?

 

…“We just got to show him love. I mean, that’s really all we have.” William Jones, on how to help a recently released inmate from prison.

 

…One would think that 11 years of nonsense should be enough by now. But, no.

 

…“Turns out I fucked up by thinking I had fucked up.” S. Leatham 

 

…At least I can still shave with one hand. Used to be, I’d sign a book and the person would immediately ask afterward, “How’s your health?”

 

…As my son explained to me, practice doesn’t always mean perfect. If you practice the wrong way for a long time, you’re going to end up anything but perfect.

 

…I guess the goal is not to be forgotten.

 

…One of the worst things is having a bad dream, waking up, then falling asleep again only to fall right back into that bad dream. That was my entire evening/morning recently.

 

…I’m surprised every single day, and it’s not usually a good surprise.

 

…Yikes. Less than three weeks now.

 

…What are you thinking?

 

…If I had a dollar for every doubt I have, well…

 

…I’m starting to really doubt the law of averages.

 

…I used to believe everything happens for a reason. Not anymore.

 

…What have you got working this weekend? Whatever it is, I hope you end up being fruitful.

 

…It sure is awfully quiet.

 

…If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess the power is out everywhere.

 

…Are we the only species who know we’re killing ourselves, and our children, and their children, but not doing anything about it?

 

…It’s funny the places you find answers to the things you thought you never would.

 

…It might be time to go find a little golf ball.

 

…Most of these attempted cyber scams seem awfully idiotic, but somebody must fall for them.

 

…I’ve never had a dream where I was someone else. I’m still waiting.

 

…In college, a group of us used to take mushrooms. It was purely recreational. Really. We’d walk fields as a group, go to the Asotin County Fair, traverse the streets near the Ave… I remember laying down in the middle of the road one time in some cul de sac around midnight. Looking up at the stars, they spelled out an important message in Morse code. I wish I could remember what that important information was. 

 

…You have to be awfully lost to jump out a hotel window.

 

…Some of us are lost in other ways.

 

…But you’re not. You know precisely where you’re headed, and why.

…A cardioversion sounds like such a benign procedure, unless you’re the one having it done to you. 

 

…I’m just going to stick around for a while, if that’s okay with you.

…Anyway, we’ll see…

 

—DON’T CHICKEN OUT, IT’S ALL GOOD

  

                                                    Loaded

 

        At the crime scene      there are only rabbits      because all the women      are dead    Everywhere it’s fur teeth     fur fists     fur ejaculate     a fever dream      of virility    and raunchy slaughter     Beers & shots    get passed     like deck cards     or a virus    while men tiptoe     across     the blood-speckled pelts     toppling chairs &    high-fiving when their favorite player     scores     Tomorrow’s game is     live     and in person     which is why     every weapon’s      already loaded

 —ANY FORWARD GEAR WILL DO

 

                                                   Bad Haircut

 

         He checks himself in the rearview, his son passenger-side, antsy but sullen, pierced and tatted up, earphones in the last hundred miles, father and son on a drive, to rehab, $20,000 a month, twenty-fucking-thousand, the road swirling like dead rope or dollar signs, father noticing the choppy cut around his own ear tops, uneven bangs, remembering the palsied way Jerry had used the trimmer, hand tremors almost as bad as his junkie son’s, the kid who has everything except for, apparently, a mogul of cocaine, which is enough to make a man disavow his own blood, yet he drives on dutifully, ripping a tuft of hair free, roots and all, a wet trickle sludging down his neck as he recognizes the boy’s stammered breathing, the parched thirst, so much like his own, unquenchable, unkillable, one more nuisance fingering his chest, his lungs, his right cheek where his wallet twitches, like an off-kilter heart. 

—I’M ALWAYS A LITTLE LOST

 

 …It’s a little freaky when your heartbeat looks like a Geiger counter.

 

…Of all the organs in my body, I always thought my heart was the safe one. Nope.

 

…It’s taken a while, but I’m learning how to live on the edges, how to work around the misery.

 

…Yesterday I was really missing the bunny hop.

 

…If you could know when, and how, you were going to die, would you want to? I never thought I would, but I’m starting to lean that way.

 

…Being competitive certainly is a double-edged sword.

 

…Everybody needs a hero. But heroes are really just people, too.

 

…RBG said she’d move to Australia if it happened. That’s probably a good plan B.

 

…If you can picture a six-foot-three scarecrow stumbling around the road like he’s on stilts, that’ll be me.

 

…I’m somehow still alive while all those curtains fall.

 

…I’ve got to stop getting ahead of myself, or behind, just get in line, that’s what I need to do.

 

…I got something to hold back. If I put up a fight, it’ll follow me home.

 

…Always second-guessing yourself is no way to live.

 

…I only want one thing for Christmas. Please?

 

…I’m trying to learn how to not care about someone’s problems more than they do.

 

…“Where shall I hide my things?” Emily Dickinson

 

…It can be too easy to give yourself too much grace.

 

…I think maybe I know more than I should.

…You make me feel high, you make me feel blue…but this shit is hard, I guess that both can be true.

...It's interesting now, being the lone sober one.

 

…These birds must think I’m nuts, walking around the house in circles.

...The hard thing is learning to say the quiet part out loud.

 

…And suddenly, the phrase My heart skipped a beat has an entirely different meaning. 

 

your life is your life

don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.

be on the watch.

there are ways out.

there is light somewhere.

it may not be much light but

it beats the darkness.

be on the watch.

the gods will offer you chances.

know them.

take them.

you can’t beat death but

you can beat death in life, sometimes.

and the more often you learn to do it,

the more light there will be.

your life is your life.

know it while you have it.

you are marvelous

the gods wait to delight

in you.

—Charles Bukowski

—YOU JUST SETTLE IN, LIKE A SONG WITH NO END

  

reconciled

fire burns out at midnight 

all the ghost stories told 

we’re pretzled in a sleep bag

like a squid 

your breath an invisible flame 

whispering Help me Save me please

while the virus sinks cities 

morgue after morgue

bones upon bones 

death and calamity 

the two dice it took

to bring you back home