April 27

Running legal errands. Counting dimes on a counter top. Proud to be a belligerent fan. Enough to set off seismic graphs. In seattle. As it sinks slowly into the sound. My stomach churns with the snack food. I indulged. Water it down. The stomach acids. I am tired and grumpy and tomorrow. Hell. I need to study all damn day and play the bass all damn day. Wake up at 630 the next day. holy hell. make it happen. fix your mistakes and jump through all of the burning hoops. i am a hurdle jumper with a broken ankle.  or a chase scene where the one in front, my goal mostly, throws down garbage cans or people in order to arrest my pursuit. But I won't give up, no. I am totally in control. I hate the sounds of the outside darkness, the people raping each other in corners. Dirty leather couches, squeaking, as I watch illicit candles mark the path into deeper oceans. underneath the tree branches. buried my love in the soil. under the clock. the smoker's shelter with flowers growing on top. the rain fueling the economic decisions. coffee shops don't go for broke during the summer. the drinks are only slightly hotter than the air. no one wants to drink hot chocolate in the arizona, unforgiving, summer heat.