Friday, March 11, 2011

Before the whorehouses of Tijuana,

there was just a mad, young, horny kid
hiding under the bed
when your Mom came home for lunch

Before the cocaine lapdances
there was the insanity of a first tongue,
nervous, shivering, not wanting to do it wrong

When I abandoned your love
I thought there was more,
and there was . . .

More hangovers, diseases, strange touches,
awful spit, heartache, wrong numbers
double-edged loneliness
And these pages of desperation
torturing me into useless understanding

Goodbye naivete; innocent charm
While the girl sleeps alone
Until he gets home,
They embrace as I get drunk
trying not to think about it

It’s always better to write it down,
To let that tear have its way,
A vengeance in its fluid—
A woman’s weapon, a man’s last chance
Before she walks out into that night
that repeats itself and kills you forever . . .

That day you never thought would come
is so long gone you don’t give a shit
A new torment arrives
A new impatience
A wound healing in silence
A brand new love
That will also be gone
All that’s left is you,
Not knowing so much

The best memory is right now
When you’re hungry
Remembering how hard your Dad works
Can’t afford to stay in the old neighborhood
with 20 bucks to your name
Shacks selling for millions of dollars
Investors laughing and drinking
While a man frantically tries to find a roof
for his family, his wife, his ’53 Chevrolet
that needs a whole lotta body work

Can’t you tell I love you,
by the way I ignore you? . . .
You stranger that reminds me of her
Through the smoky, screaming bottles
Within the cueball’s white smash
Her forever or never again
Relentless but waiting; devastated
She sobs and I drink & drink
I sob and I drink & smoke
Having barroom conversations of blue ashes
The phantom drunk caller
The instantly social, vocal cat,
Then a dirty blackness; a pounding
into the pillows of greasy tears

And before the whorehouses of Tijuana,
Before I was murdered by the knife
of your soft, smiling memory
Before the luckless night whose darkness
pounds and laughs like chains or daisies,
I stopped searching and then I found you
Like a cloud of perfume long forgotten,
suddenly attacking my nostrils
Our vacant touches met crashing,
as if a ghost walked out of its shadow
Our stubborn eyes and tongues met clashing,
like a swarm of wasps with a determined destruction
We pulled each other apart, wasted tears,
stung each other sore and swollen—red

And before the whorehouses of Tijuana
Before the empty bottle rooms
Before the anchor dropped in my gut
Before the circling reflection in the toilet water
Before it was too late to tell you anything
Before I wondered so much about other touches,
laughs, hairs in the bed, sighs, moans, earlobe
kisses, interlocked fingers thrusting—secrets
Before all of that,
All I wanted was to be in love
with a girl like you.

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