It’s 2 o’clock in the morn…
February 21st, 2008
Listening to Tom Waits
on a lunar eclipse romantic somnambular night…
and I’m feeling bluesy,
Thinking of the one that I’ve loved best…
GOD, just how did I let my mind so easily pour from the right ear out the door??
but everything is gonna be just fine.
The night is getting colder;
My journal is full of prose and poems from
daily wanderings and philosophical conversations
with Bangkok’s hookers and “managers”–
beaten sutured faces,
on the arms of foreign accents,
luminescent skin with candy apple red lips (boy)
done to poster perfection of cosmetic surgery,
the bright neon lights down the Sukhumvit stretch,
and elephant blood on my hands
while crossing the street…chasing a sugar cane treats.
Things I don’t like to think about
making company with memories at two:
he was my needed sublime stupidity
like white needs black to define,
and silence needs noise to vacation,
So, I’m owning the words used to hurt me
Turning down people and promises that don’t coincide with mine,
MY world to define
If I had a daughter, I don’t know if,
I could tell her all the sad things,
I’d say, “2 in the morn blues, don’t go past 6,
Don’t get elephant blood chasing cheap sweets
don’t let lonely spells go without philosophizing,
and everything is gonna be alright.”
“The moon ain’t romantic, actually it’s intimidating as hell.” –Tom Waits add to del.icio.us
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