I can’t run I can’t hide I can’t numb
My memories of you
I can’t go home alone again
Why are you so far away
“I’m no writer. I’m just talking; a lost soul…”
Shadow and I went out after work.
Said I wasn’t going out tonight.
Shadow was hungry, and I didn’t want to go home.
Rubber arm and all.
‘What’s on special?’
‘Pizza and beer?’
‘The pizza and one two three four lager’s please.’
Action packed, stat heavy sports replayed in the background as Henry Miller blew my mind.
I was thinking to leave as Jack D came over to say hello and how do you do.
Shadow, of course, was friendly and conversational.
I didn’t have much to talk about, pretty much the same old same old.
Finished up quick and made my way, away.
the tide is out out out
little boats littered along the sandy seafloor
scattered like forgotten toys
I will not drink a diet soda to lighten the mood
I will not buy it in my choice of four vibrant colours
I will not vote for my favourite amateur whomever
I will not allow algorithms to find me Love
I will not chase another’s dream
I will not march into Moloch
It’s a beautiful day
A beautiful day
The sun has not yet set
Twenty two hours and seven minutes
The orange and blue hangs like one of Mum’s weavings
Dark buildings light up
Denizens flick switches
Kitchens, living rooms, oversized televisions
The sun is sinking
Chili fries and cigarettes.
Dope, jazz, more dope.
One more, no two more beer…
Too much beer.
And Kerouac writes on page 28*
“My manners, abominable at times, can be sweet. As I grew older I became a drunk. Why? Because I like ecstasy of the mind.
I’m a wretch.
But I love love.”
But I love love.
What time is it in Italy?
*Satori in Paris ~ Jack Kerouac