19th
Friday, June 19th, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions
*apathy insurance*
dawn was coming up,
quiet as a hard-on
…stumbling back to the flat
full of lady fingers & rope burn,
i glanced up at the crushed velvet sky,
& gave mr. moon the nod
…he played it cool,
observing my swerving
from the corner of a half-open eye,
like the front desk manager
of a seedy hotel,
the kind w/ hourly rates,
& a broken pay-phone
in a lobby that smells
like human soup,
the tragic old carpet
sings tattered arias
…sure, he’s got your number,
he’s peeped your cards & read your book too
…he’s got something on everybody
but they’d never get it out of him;
he don’t know nobody &
he don’t know nothing &
he don’t pass judgment
…not because of any
lofty moral position, you
understand,
but because
he just
stone
don’t
care
No comments yet.
