Lullaby

Whoever you are

I've been writing you letters most of my life.
I am never certain if you receive them, but in my mind's eye
I can see you reading them in your quiet place with tender understanding
The curtains  are stirred there by a gentle breeze and I see your hands
Holding the pages, but not your face,
Never your face.
You haven't written back,
But I live in hope.

My older brother in arms, Vanilla Fudge.

Dream: drunk on the fringes of a hotel lobby or convention center, I run into the former Secretary of Defense and Marine General, James Mattis, and his lovely wife. He is also drunk. We meet and discover our common heritage. He is dressed in jeans and a pollo shirt. Each time I run into him I fumble with what to call him - Sir, Mr. Secretary, General - but he puts me at ease, tells me he's laying low and that "Vanilla Fudge" will do. 

Waking from a nap in Purgatory at 12:02 A.M.

Purgatory is a place of muted colors and bland flavors. It's mostly quiet, and when there is discernible sound- human, natural or mechanical - it strikes you as monotonous. If an audible sound (one heard with the ear rather than inside the head) seems of interest, it's almost always incomplete - a fragment - too vague for comprehension or to do anything constructive with.

If there's a feeling you're left with here, it's a particular variety of emptiness, not a total one though because you have your memory, which dulls and wears with time, so often repeated are it's contents that very soon, relatively speaking, you don't know with any real certainty whether they actually took place in the world or if they've just come to constitute a repeated story looping. It's like a bell chiming in some far distance, relentless and hallucinatory.

There are other occupants, you're not alone exactly. In fact, nearly the whole world is here. Of course, it is what is absent that is most real and most profound. 

Tom Waits

Merry Christmas, Motherfucker.

I bought him two beers
The young guy who walked in
Still wearing hospital bracelets
From where he was treated for a broken jaw
And failing kidneys which he obtained
In jail.

They treated him with Tylenol and time
In the hole for defending himself
We looked for personal injury lawyers
On my phone - he's sure he's got a case
He said in the hole, he lived on only applesauce,
Which the CO liked to call his dog food.

One Gone

There's a dead guy in my mouth.
They told me his prognosis was hopeless
Due to a crack that went all the way down
To the bottom of the root,

They said it was not my fault
That it was not a matter of neglect
That it was just a matter of pressure over time
And it could happen to anyone,

So I let them, gave them the go ahead
I sanctioned the hit
They cut into the tooth laboriously
And eventually extracted the nerve

Which is to say, really
They removed the soul
And this morning it is eerily quiet
Inside my mouth

Root Canal, Please

A tooth, it's roots, and a network of nerves
Make yourself an appointment a week away
Each day, the pain intensifies - only for you though
No one else can know, no urgency there
It's good at least for changing your
Perspective

Almost Blue

Sometimes it happens like that

A new friend; a Christmas party I'd have otherwise suffered through; some karaoke where the host knew my name, the bartender garnished a glass of water for her with great care, and I sang the Stray Cats and Motorhead pretty darn well for a non-singing fuck - a good night. When my head hit the pillow I said "thank you".

80

We wondered what that white cloud in the distance was, rising over the trees and hills of Pennsylvania, as we made our way across the state. I joked that it was a mushroom cloud over New York City. We listened to satellite radio and watched the cloud grow closer. It turned out to be steam rising from the reactors at the Three Mile Island nuclear power plant. The sky was otherwise  an unblemished blue. 

Travel Day

Across Pennsylvania on Highway 80.  Lots of wrecked guard rail - when you make a mistake in a big truck, it's a big mistake. Lots of road killed deer. The blood smear of an Eastern Coyote. The Pennsylavania Wilds. The Alegheny and the Susquahana. Punxsutawney, Clearfield, Snow Shoe and White Haven. I've come to rest in Bethlehem for the night..

Warren

Ohio again. This time I just work, eat at the nearby mall restaurants, and read back in my room.