Saturday, April 11, 2015

Columbia river pk. st. rd.

'ey kid these fingers work too
fast to worry about which comes 
first g or n or what thought makes sense

corner coffee shop
side of columbia pike
buses pull up at regular intervals
16H 16J 16X rundown 
character wait on saturday 
head for part-time shit-time jobs
at the other end of the pike
maybe skyline city whatever 
that is of where I don't know

Barista tells me his just
found some books and records
he'd lost, been lost for 15 years
that's a hole in the heart
too think to imagine--I think
of my copy of A Farewell to Arms--
still not sure where the damn things gone--
coffee breaks my reverie his triumph

spring wind wails woutside where
wallowing well I walk to the car can't
stomach the microwave mecca masterpiece
of Bob n' Edith's shit slop spectacular
calls itself home cooking in the atomic age,
tv dinner relative reality neon orange vomit cheese
masquerade. I can't even turn my head disdainful 
I just wretch, but the coffee helps the ice the blue sky damn
just fuck it and blow the red, no cops no yellow no light
I don't stop I don't give a fuck, I can't stand that rotten smell

coast on home sailor squid down the hill
tunnel under 395 cars swish silent saturday swell
I'm almost relieved at the stop, I take it in stride
bus' break sput sput swush psssssssssss
I'll be taking that gig come monday
either way the world ends--putz--I got a book 
waiting in this here mailbox, a cat at home,
coffee in hand--Now I wonder,
ya know, I'm thinking, just about 
what some of those lost book title were.

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