Sunset Boulevard II

She misjudged, flooded her burning unrestrained veins, and while she fearfully fantasized she would fall in love to a symphony of bad songs again, her quiet friend in the corner was feeling a secret silence creep in from the corners of the diner. The flash of lights and obscene billboards of Sunset Strip beat against the surreal levity of everything else, melting into a smooth bleeding in their favorite wasteland.

The three of them fell asleep in bed together, in the room at the end of a small hallway of mirrors, an unfinished bottle of Hennessy left on the nightstand

One of them whispered but I want to continue my amphetamine romance as she drifted off to gray beach mists steaming around, a quiet, solitary expanse, and white breasts catching warm sun rays on a Mexican beach

When she heard her mother’s name called she opened eyelids to sunshine piercing its way through heavy blinds, spilling across the wall panes of glass

Dream

When your sleeping breath heaves out a tropical breeze

Whispering across the steady streams of my back the waves of my spine

The warm rhythm of ripples does not end until I am in a dream of

Hot white sand on my thighs palms rustling behind

And the cerulean crystal expanse before us is urging us to rise with the sun in paradise

So I blink

To find my lonely flesh

Stale without you

Bristling at the rain

Sinking under the weight and ash of the sky

Denny’s

she was the straying lover smoking triple purple haze across his street, while watching the lights in his window. a heavy euphoria weighing down the eyelids, limbs, and the air until the night wore thin and she was aware only of shadows converging before a shuddering luminescence, forced to confess to existence, imaginary rapists coming in and out of the dark in handsome form, with mundane names

she took the corner booth at Denny’s, and suffered crucifixion among tattooed waitresses and tired, leering men, and her friend asked

are the holes in the pages symbolism for Tuesday

surveying the diner, a neon box of discord, she said no, just enclosing myself in blank pages pressed between hard covers until springtime erases this momentary solitude

as the sun arose again she noticed the remnants of the day were splattered on the restaurant walls

Desert Trip

The moments are slow when daylight rules and regulates with its majestic restraint and royal logic but

They were driving between canyons and she thought the sky was hers

Imagined she was immortal

Dreamed she had him once

Held a piece of his existence closely, secretly

After traffic had dulled the senses she found her body blissfully floating in a courtyard pool in the middle of the desert while her heart sank to the bottom like lead and when he reached for her hand there was a terrible haze of fragmentation

And she thought

If only this was the expected collapse into a high-density oblivion like before stars explode, a symphony of destruction, and I would still have you and you me and I could catch your scattered pieces of celestial ash in cupped palms grateful that you have been constant through my graceless passage into years

 

 

Irvine II

she was walking and the paper bag was ready to tear out of her hand from the weight of the hard rain and daydreaming she absorbed the whole cosmos of the winter day into the folds of her brain, streams of hot hatred searing through sulci and gyri until she walked through the double doors of home

found her place before her computer and received communications in cold flashes from an old high school friend who had killed over 50 people in Iraq. because of the lack of tone she could not tell if he was bragging or repenting but she suspected he enjoyed it and thought of his nondescript, beady eyes, slightly pock-marked face, slender frame, easy demeanor, as she knew him before, and shuddered until she closed the laptop lid and infused into a quiet suburban memory.

she had stars and moons in her pocket and a dull tomorrow which promised to lose itself in a mad Los Angeles rush, broken light slipping through cracks of graceless nights, vanishing with feckless abandon and levity into the thinnest dust on its final course

and he had dead bodies rotting eye sockets and a putrid childhood left in a foreign land.

Alcohol IV

Jack Daniels in hand she wandered to the boy who had insisted on following her about like a puppy dog all night took a lock of his hair between two fingers and told him his shaggy, dirty blond hair was cute. He touched her lips once and she ran but he kept calling her at odd hours. The night was a lonely stereotype so she poured herself Jim Beam and he was there, dressed in all white while his friend analyzed her eyebrows.

Later she felt her veins glowing and clutched his hand, pressed her palms into his bare shoulder blades and had daydreams of a false prince.

Boy

He puppets her so that she flushes every thought from her head and

Forces all other sensations from her flesh

Until she falls asleep against his warm chest

She would see him in heaven if she were allowed in those ranks

But one’s own destruction is always more invigorating than another’s

So she continued drowning Tuesday in a silver pool of bitterness and bottled disasters and

In time she will find herself swimming to him, a red salamander in her nostalgic pond

Rural Town II

She grew up in a place where the wind sang at night and

Oppressed inhabitants during the day

With vigor and slight cruelty

But sometimes she would remember the damp southern grass crawling on her skin

And fireflies dancing in sticky summer heat

With fondness for the backbone of her suburban dreams

Alcohol III

Johnny, Jack, Jim, and other insidious lovers waited restless and lonely on the shelves

Until they came to the rescue with acts of self-sacrifice

Painting the night into an unforgivable haze

After scouring the concrete wilderness all evening

Swimming in people and singing of death

She awoke next to a boy and the night had been thick and hot

He had called at 3:00 a.m., said

Of all the carousers in Los Angeles, I had a feeling you would be up at this hour 

The many hours of semi-consciousness and flirtation with a demoted deity were questionable

But she sensed in an alternative universe her other self was trudging in dark blandness and purposeless amnesia

Drowning in indifference

Meeting On a Street Corner

Someone told her there were a thousand trillion neutrinos zipping through her body at this very moment, so inspired

She fluttered down the sidewalk until she was face to face with him and

He pulled her into a kiss on the street corner to mark his territory

Puppetted her with small dances while the warm waves in her veins bubbled to slow vibrations of the skin until

She thought she could fly

In the morning when she has to leave she becomes paralyzed with wrath and decay and remembers the hard plague

Again she is a small ghost in the Californian sunshine, wandering unnoticed, forced to walk to the sound of angry music over and over