[ if i don't write it down
but think of writing it down
all the beautiful composition of it
unravels in my head... ]
Sitting at the table
nearly two hundred years old
with oil and garlic.
Everything in the house should be in a museum
how old is that?
where is that from?
i let my hands graze them...
the little statues
there's a pre-columbian jade figurine from mexico!
(i don't want to put my mobile phone next to it: don't want to fuck up it's vibes)
everything in the house kinda gets me high
just touching it-
it's almost as good as being in Europe
where every building is 500 years old
The living ones here move slow
like the Burmen cats
who loll about
and sleep all day
S sits in his chair
volume up all the way
have a conversation with J?
have to shout
what did you say?
how old is that?
i lift the little stool with filigreed wood patterns under the marble top
there's a click...
the conversations are like clouds
they float around without going anywhere
what's the answer to that question?
let's just talk about it...
They love eachother, though
been together 35 years
he helps him across the room
soothes his eyes with ointments and drops
at the dinner table
on 200 year old chairs
they scuttle fingers across the wooden surface
to catch eachother's hands
Can i touch this?
should be in a museum...
how did it survive this long?
i'm slightly envious
but what can i do?
i'm not a libra nor a taurus
how could i possess such beauty and stability?
i can hardly tolerate walking so slow to keep up with them
down the city-block long hall way...
through the conversations
"we keep a million books around the house so we can look up the answer to any topic that comes our way..."
' my generation has the internet for that '
" well yes: but we like to own things; have them at hand "
"yes, like this: do you know why Marshmallow is called Marshmallow?"
' um, most of my knowledge comes from context and supposition
but i just heart recently that babies were given marshmallow to chew on
and i know that's a root that is good for lungs and bladder...
it's slightly sweet... grows in marshes...
once it was chewed up
it becomes fiberous and puffy...
like the licorice root i always chew on... '
"well, yes... Exactly."
his breath smells of old man...
i'd never let him get like that
take those poisons
he wants him to live forever...
but i would control everything!
go for a walk!
eat green leafy vegetables!
no more TV..
lay down with me
caress my skin
to feel these men admire my youth
my soft skin...
29 stories down
the homeless men play chess on the street corner at 9pm...
how do men become homeless?
the world is FULL of loving, beautiful, kind, GIVING people!
you just don't know how to receive!
don't allow yourself to be humble!
don't care about yourself enough to put even the small effort into keeping yourself in a position where you can make choices about where you sleep and what you eat!
where once i thought they just rejected all of society
even the LOVE!
why is there so much deceit?
i called this man
and told him i had to be back here at 7:30 for dinner
he told me to jump in a cab...
we talked nearly two years ago
and when i came out here
i tried to meet him
and he would not explain why not
but he said he didn't want to have anything to do with me anymore...
then he contacted me a few months ago in SF
and asked to see me
calls me many times last night and today
i got to see him
no, i get to his place
i must have read my clock wrong on my computer
(it's a 24hr clock... i've been using a 24hr clock since '95... i still mistake it sometimes... but very rarely)
and the clock on my cell phone
maybe it changed it self wrong when crossing the border:
i always place the blame
i keep watching the clock
and at 7pm
i tell him i must go shower
and head home
as i leave
i let it go to voicemail til i get on the street
as i do
i call him back
he wants me to come over and sleep with him
' did you have dinner yet? '
" ..No" he says
i tell him i have to have dinner with the people i'm staying with
and i'm already late for that...
i'll call him when i'm done...
i start walking back
call my gracious hosts
and get their voicemail
- i tell them i am late and will be there soon
i run into the Whole Foods to buy some Açai
and something chocolatey... with caramel... hmmm and pecans!
back walking on the street
i check my phone to see what time i left that message saying i was late already
my phone says it's 8:36
is the phone the wrong time?
i look up at the great City Hall in the centre of Philadelphia
it says it's nearly 9 o'clock: certainly
i get back to their place just after 9
i feel confused.
did that man change the clock in his bedroom so he could get an extra hour with me?
i check my voicemail
the man who wants me to come sleep with him
left a message with me
that call i missed
as i was leaving the first's house
-- he tells me he just got finished eating dinner with his friends.
"thought there was love in everything and eveyone:
you're so naïve!"*
People who deceive
it does no good to call them on their shit
they OWN it
they bathe in it
they eat it
they are composed of it
like my old lovers of the Leo tribe
calling them on their shit only pisses them off
they feel they are entitled to their deceptions
ESpeCIALLY to their self deceptions
like that italian bastard out in long island
this is certainly new
the people out in california
when called on their shit
would act like deer in the headlights
"Oh, sorry... did i say that?"
feigning total confusion
i believed them:
they didn't realize they were lying
it just slipped out
like greased shit...
but these people out east
you tell him
they get pissed off
should i even call him back?
i'll sleep well tonight...
"with a winning smile
with naïvety succeeds!
at the final moment
i always cry at endings..."*