fast food marriage and divorce

6 Jul

anywhere traffic light turns green and
we all walk side by side down the aisle;
sucked in by the strange smell;
honeymoon in the first few steps
routine as the cement midway island nears
boredom when the other side is reached,
but no regrets as we slip back into the river.

 

 

smells like medicine

5 Jul

to arrive where three rivers merge into lake,
maybe 500 years ago
and give it a name like
“a gathering place by the waters.”

the nursery of noovin-ville

13 Jun
there’s a place in my mind
somewhere just around the suddenly.
i call it noovinville for no reason other than
liking the way it sounds and
the nothing way it laughs.
sitting like a rapture,
reminding me in welcome home party hat
“where have you been peduncle head?”
life is still but a dream!”

 

it was almost the last supper and then…..

12 Jun

the waiting room seduced me with its damaged magazine cover and
plants not so heliotropic.
i heard the squish of brains thinking too much
and then some eyes hit me.
it was right about the time they announced my name like a meat counter number.
the doctor didn’t know my body or mind.
how could he?
i had never invited him inside.
no x-ray knew more than me beside this body and mind all these years;
but did i ever listen?
oh yeh, just that one organ when it acted up
more like a synthesizer
after looking long and hard into those eyes not mine
and like a dose,
everything melted and
i crumbled for hours, days, months, years and
only mine fields remained and then
pang pang pang
there were no more mines,
just an almost empty carcass
and then
the waiting room seduced me again with its damaged magazine cover and
plants not so heliotropic.
i heard the squish of brains thinking too much
and then some eyes hit me.

maryjane swears that maybe planets don’t spin

11 Jun

cotton weeds floating through space this time of year
looking like pill capsules exploded into extra terrestrial furries;
just roaming around in steady flight;
high or low;
an albatross cruise in excess of 15 kilometers, maybe faster;
just checking out the different scenes;
in the backs of apartment complexes,
between the cars at shopping mall parking lots.
sometimes landing on public swimming pool water;
sometimes on people’s bare shoulders and
sometimes stuck on a branch outside a bedroom window.
horizontal, diagonal, up or down
so many of them,
sometimes ducking  behind the church
or trapped in a bus cabin,
to sleep I guess,
to sleep sometimes forever or until winter and then another spring
and morphing into something else.

reading psychology books backwards

10 Jun

i was hoping to crawl into a tree and wind my way backwards to where minds don’t fiend for extra toppings and animal spirits can be seen or felt under t-shirts and square human jaws, but the curtains open on today instead.

i’m walking  to a montreal survival store loaded with beer, cigarettes, lottery ticks, a row of canned tuna, glass case of jamaican meat patties.

a man is speaking creole and the chinese cashier doesn’t understand his patois lilt and neither do i. the cashier thinks it’s related to the zippo he’s holding; the one  shaped like a little gun and apparently in need of lighter fluid. the cashier is right.

and i’m wrong. i offer the creole man a suggestion. “you can get bb bullets at canadian tire,” i say in my heavily accented french. “there’s bb’s in the sporting good section.”

we’re worse off than before. i’ve confused his zippo for a BB gun. i just assumed this guy was like me and he gets tired of the animal being sucked out of us from red tape and bureaucracy. no one really wants to be a stuffed diplomat. you rape the land and chew vegetables without offering thanks, you’re a thief. a bb won’t kill you. just wake you up.

that creole man got wind of where my mind was at and he laughed a belly laugh and out came his closed fist and out came mine, a soft crashing of souls in spontaneous celebration; brothers of the struggle.

i like zoos and aquariums and overlook the captivity, but this was troublesome…

9 Jun

i don’t know what kind of dog it was,
a giant grey poodle; well groomed aristocrat.
the owner whiplashed the animal out of it;
fascist policy of no messing with other dogs.
it was a black lab approaching; a junkyard dog with no scruples.
another missed opportunity for love i thought.

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