all tomorrow's parties

two men with hats over their faces in the back of a truck, being taken to jail possibly for some vice or other. Ai and her poems will become my poems, new and selected, real and neglected, some tears may be shed, some saved for later. in the end, something new must be known.

i search the eyes of passers-by for the next line, the perfect beginning, a timeless quote, sexual tension, pain, a hello, a silent interest...everyday, at the bookstore, in the coffee shop, on my block, in the car next to mine with the New York license plate...she's from out of town, he wears his shirts inside-out, she has green eyes, i am a leach, yearning for a connection deeper than blood, under the skin, never to be forgotten.

...my job, no job...all i want is to be drunk high and fuck away the night in a black light doom...conjure ghosts to dance with me...hendrix's manic depression, led zeppelin's dazed and confused or california, beck's peaches n cream or new pollution, in succession, just like that, just as i thought, or wrote or both...

i forgot to mention velvet underground...lou reed playing under the veil of an andy warhol triptych...watching eternal sunshine of the spotless mind in someone's back yard hotboxing in a tent on homegrown. and its all in my mind...and then it isn't. nothing, nothing at all, save the packt of sardines in a crushed tin box...epiphanous yet trite, mundane yet star-struck, a crescent moon dying in the equator's arms.

after the show is all tomorrow's parties, dangling from my lover's wrists, some tiffany and co. heartful(less) promise that diamonds are more than metamorphed coal...the earth truly everyone's best friend, although we love her like we love the gutter, all in passing.