Ziplock Bags
Seeking hope and sharing peace. Or is it the other way around? I mostly forget, but here is where I remember.Archive for nostalgic
Soon farewell
a soon farewell
The toothpaste on the sink is beginning to harden
slowly transforming into a mint for a rainy day
I’ll pick it up on the way out.
Besides, I have no cigars.
I move inconspicuosly each moment
hoping not to draw attention to myself
Each movement is calculated, contrived and convincing.
Too many movements and their eyes will surely be on me.
Fading into the background like a chameleon
Has always been my specialty, if only to get away quietly
Not to catch my prey. Simply to pray audaciously.
Road trips to portland and back.
I fancy adventure, broken tires and rain.
The lines on the road playing musical chairs with your brain.
If you stare long enough into the deep abyss, Nietzsche says
It will stare back at you. The road is the abyss.
So here is to farwells, and goodbyes to bid adieu.
If I look back it will be for moments like these
when somehow I pretend that I am happy with life.
But maybe the toothpaste will harden in my other lifetimes too
We’ve never listened to Jazz at the tavern before
We’ve never listened to jazz at the tavern before
Blues bleed improvisation into our inebriated veins
and its spontaneity feels like too much for us to handle.
davis
gillespie
coltrane
Jukebox plays as we stroll
Leaving our pride at the entrance
Along with the fags in
the bucket of
Sand by the door.
Fitzgerald
Holiday
Minnie
Fifty Cents a song makes perfect non-sense
(Worth every lack of penny)
Old men stare
Fake Id’s expire
And red ash trays are given away as
Tokens of non-compliance with the law.
carrabba
mayer
matthews band
Maybe we are just trying to find our souls.
Catching the tune of cigarettes
With our hands tied behind our backs
Drunken promises being sealed
By shady proposals
weezer
greenday
cranberries
An intentionally
unintended Polaroid could not save us
Haikus commit seppuku
On broken bushido
And before you know it.
We are gone.
Crossing walks.
Racing home.
(If we are lucky there is a soundtrack)
Hoping to find some solace
under the familiarity of
darklightspictureswordspamphletsletterssalvation=marijuana
And a yellow triangle.
(where things seem to be as they should
A lot like listening to Jazz at a tavern)
