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Dec. 13th, 2004 10:21 amI pissed the phone off on Friday and she wouldn't speak to me over the weekend, giving me a cold shoulder of a dial tone whenever I passed by. The TV was strung out again on some seriously bad shit and kept throwing up in digital color all over the living room. The fridge was hungry, I could hear it's freon stomach growling over the bitching of the overworked heater. I watched my shadow move across the hardwood floor, eclipsing the dust in a slow crawl left. Nothing to do but ask the boots- "What's wrong with me guys?" I asked them as they hid under the bed, "Am I dead to the world already?". The steel toes shrugged and the laces told me to "Walk it off. Walk it forward and walk it back." That's their answer to everything though.
I find myself in the park at sunset, smoking cigarettes and sitting on the balancing beam. I'm the only one here. I make sea serpents & Chinese dragons out of the smoke I exhale. I watch them rise, coil and dance out of the frost on my breath, twisting and turning along the cross currents of an evening breeze, they disperse when they hit too high and the winds tear them apart with greedy fingers like children ripping Christmas ribbons off indifferently, toy anxious they don't see all the work & care that went into the package. The little monsters we create privately don't stand a chance out here. They thrive in the warm subterranean catacombs of our problems and dramas, where they can dive deep into the still trauma waters of our memories and find fresh bones to sharpen their teeth on. Out here they amount to little more than a sigh and are slain with the shrug of a indifferent friend.
I came home and Old Mother Pipe was sitting at my desk worrying.
"You didn't even say 'good morning'" she laments in the gleam of a small table lamp. "You didn't even say "hi".
"I know baby. I know."
"I can hear your brain screaming such terrible dreams, honey, and it sounds worse the closer it get."
"That's the way it is with me though baby. But I promise if you listen long enough it begins to sound like music."
"You need to forget." she whispers from the carb "You need to swim in the fog and take off that heavy old body and relax."
I turn to the phone. She sneers back at me with an empty answering machine. I know that look. I ain't getting any tonight- calls that is. I pick up Old Mother Pipe and put her to my lips and play amnesia music into a quiet Saturday night.
I find myself in the park at sunset, smoking cigarettes and sitting on the balancing beam. I'm the only one here. I make sea serpents & Chinese dragons out of the smoke I exhale. I watch them rise, coil and dance out of the frost on my breath, twisting and turning along the cross currents of an evening breeze, they disperse when they hit too high and the winds tear them apart with greedy fingers like children ripping Christmas ribbons off indifferently, toy anxious they don't see all the work & care that went into the package. The little monsters we create privately don't stand a chance out here. They thrive in the warm subterranean catacombs of our problems and dramas, where they can dive deep into the still trauma waters of our memories and find fresh bones to sharpen their teeth on. Out here they amount to little more than a sigh and are slain with the shrug of a indifferent friend.
I came home and Old Mother Pipe was sitting at my desk worrying.
"You didn't even say 'good morning'" she laments in the gleam of a small table lamp. "You didn't even say "hi".
"I know baby. I know."
"I can hear your brain screaming such terrible dreams, honey, and it sounds worse the closer it get."
"That's the way it is with me though baby. But I promise if you listen long enough it begins to sound like music."
"You need to forget." she whispers from the carb "You need to swim in the fog and take off that heavy old body and relax."
I turn to the phone. She sneers back at me with an empty answering machine. I know that look. I ain't getting any tonight- calls that is. I pick up Old Mother Pipe and put her to my lips and play amnesia music into a quiet Saturday night.