burn this one after reading

there’s bad craziness in Ohio and L.A.
shotguns going off against temples
soft flesh violated by corroded metal
men and women painted into corners
insanity
urgency
madness
as the teenage barrista
twirls her hair
gives me change
and declares to someone listening:
“i’m bored. my boyfriend sucks.
he’s gotta work on Valentine’s Day.
life stinks.”

to-do lists and stinky shoes

i need to brush my teeth.
i need to reconcile the ghosts.
i need to wipe off the breadcrumbs.

check tire pressure.
tweak the bolts.
close the gates.
wipe off the blood and chocolate from the walls.
erase old directions.
follow new ones.

Pavel made his shoes from hemp and old car tires.
His grandfather was a cobbler and his mother a seamstress back home.
In fifth grade the other kids ganged up and stuck him into a large garbage bin.
“your shoes stink, you fuckin alien!”

i must write more stories about bars.
or cages.

“hey,” she says
“why didn’t you ever let me fade into your world?”

one of these days
i’m gonna get organi-
zized.