we were lazy in the afternoon,
finding the country with the most obese people,
the tallest people,
the people with the largest penises
turns out the democratic republic of Congo won that one
and the smallest penises went to North Korea
would explain their obsession over ballistic missile launchings,
an over compensation of sorts,
but come to think of it,
i’ve never had a doctor or any government official
measure my penis.
who can trust these websites?
we were lazy in the afternoon,
i tried this little experiment,
to live without the people i love.
i pretended they were gone.
what a relief my experiment was nothing but a prosthesis.
i put my real organs back in their slots and could sing my song again.
if i were a spider, i wouldn’t mind being sucked up into a vacuum cleaner. I’d just wait a second or two and spin a web inside the vacuum bag. if i lost my apartment keys and the windows turned to steel, i’d be grateful for lockers at the bus station where i could stash my clothes and wait out the night and when the mountain came alive again in the sunrise morning and all its geology and faces shined so bright or dull; rain or not rain, it wouldn’t matter to me; i would sit at its base and day dream volcano that once exploded and still explodes every time i see her we sit totally imperfect with our pock marks, bad breath, and jealousy – our own little dilapidated kind of love, depending on each other because the alternative is a riot against death and neither one of us wears skateboard pads.
it was a few hours ago.
i became convinced,
that it’s best to finish one project before starting a new one,
to devote so much attention to that one,
to only that one,
that precious little gem of a one,
but then i changed my mind because a second project bloomed and
then a third,
followed by a fourth.
the lid of my beer stein head was flying away,
then a fifth and sixth,
all of them like roads stretching to maybe nowhere,
but kids ran amok, screaming undecipherable in the playground of my mind,
a seventh then took shape
and when an eighth spawned,
i said screw it, and became convinced of the other way,
of spinning eight plates at the same time or at least dying this day trying
and maybe i’ll get lucky,
thinking about how Rosencrantz and Manasseh equivalent insignificants rose to be
centerfolds in my mind.
it was those cotton weed spidery whatever they’re called floating up like silky jellyfish, pulsating in the breeze. they caught me and being an addict of anything that feels good, i stopped and looked up because i needed a thrill. the library newspaper wouldn’t do it for me, not that day anyway, so i watched those cotton weed beings rise up and soar like hundreds of ufo’s heading elsewhere making the middle of june look like a snowy day and i was sweating, but i didn’t care. i like sweat. i like my jacket. i don’t care if its 100 degrees and i don’t even care if someone says, “Are we expecting the apocalypse today dude?” i could feel people approaching and didn’t want to scare them. the world sometimes has strange ideas about standing around and doing nothing. We’re always supposed to be doing something. I don’t need something. I don’t even need parks or benches. I can stop or go and stare whenever i want.
the first time someone asked me “how was your day?”
i wonder if that confused me, asking me in the past tense because i probably wasn’t tense at all. in fact i was probably feeling loosey-goosey and wishing we had a swimming pool, but since we didn’t i probably begged whoever was looking after me if we could go jump in the lake….
“now?” they probably asked.
“yes now,” i probably said.
that dog hears footsteps and jumps up,
its paws scraping the door with excitement.
its dog consciousness bursting through the bars.
sounds of human words detected in its bark,
always on the brink of a miracle,
the world always on the brink,
of a miracle.