Friday, October 23, 2009

GHOSTS OF FOOD CAME BACK TO HAUNT YOU

1.
No, what I'm actually concerned with is the death of sincerity. Plus or minus plants. The efficiency of soul musicians. The cowbell's reminder.

A revisionist history had never been so beautiful. We, with coffee mugs in one hand & joints in the other, wondered just what evil was. The fangs of a deadly serpent spray apple juice. The mind was willing but the body couldn't stop thinking about some crazy shit it had read earlier.

They were all about the procurement of snacks but back at the apartment she watched him jerk off from the next couch cushion. It was not the strangest thing happening above a 7-11 that day. Sex with the professor is always out-of-the-body.

The forceful putting of the Mosrite string.
The easy buy of the drugged informer.

2.
The dog did not leap but instead fell under the table. It smelled like beer and it was certainly not going to be driving anywhere that night. The cats stood on their hind legs. "We must tell Rhonda about what happened tonight."  "Yes, but let them have their fun. They're already drunk & I'm hoping one of them takes their clothes off."  Someone puts on "Echoes" from Meddle.  "Forget it. Let's tell her now."

3.
The neck of the mask was soaking wet. He tapped it with two fingers. If it was blood, he couldn't tell. Why had he had picked red for the costume in the first place? He couldn't recall.

Turning to face the lake, he saw that everything had taken a soft blue hue. He was reminded of sitting on the beach with eyes closed, then opening them to see everything was a new, slightly blue version of the old everything. He kneeled, a sliver of pain in the gravel, then numbness.

The sensation of pins was fast & unreal, shooting through his limbs and dying out. The blue was darkening entirely past purple & turning black. Shadows took mass, obscuring the edge of his vision like the spiraled closing of a camera's shutter. Lying on his side, he folded his arms to keep the chill at bay, and said something as the waterfront became consumed with darkness.

Three bros skated by the body, laughing. The city planted a victory garden in the spot.

My sister unplugged the phone: "How about a moment of silence for a fallen hero?" Our father threw a shoe at her. "You pick some berries, you leave some behind!"

Friday, October 09, 2009