Sunday, October 17, 2010


In the rare Los Angeles rain
The mist falling faintly on the gray city
The roads charging blindly
And I don’t want to go home
To the barrage of incessant questions
I am Missing You.
Afraid to let go of my memories of you
because I did
telling the daughter of a Mexican druglord
the same thing;
from the ripped up fabric of the bottom of my heart
You have to let go.
The words ricochet off of the retaining walls
Back into the car
Snapping my head back
Like the bullet I cannot seem to place
The helicopters boom
Charging into the skyline as vultures seeking carrion
The gray streets holding stagnant to the floodplain of concrete and humans
The gray infesting everything
How I wish I had a little of your color in my life
To brighten up this bland sterile place
How I wish I did not have to live
with the decisions that we agreed on
So many years ago in that gray room with those grey people
  How I wish.
The roads curve and buckle and the perpetual disneyland of LA
Plays itself out repeatedly, incessantly
Thinking of the falcon-faced women of my current situation
How flatly they look at me as If I were another gray statue
Melted from acid rain, with pigeon filth
Carved by some common sculptor
If only they could see my true form, in color
Lacking the luminosity that we once shared
Their gaze is not the blooming snapdragons
of intoxication
it deserves a cold place like this
for the insignificant to enrapture themselves
in the shroud of, blah-
as the animus falls down emasculated in a field of stone
and the cars charge forward all the same
the money flitters off  to who-cares-where…
at a steady pace  in this bland parade
where I am missing you.
So far from the warm summers of our dogs, and our cat tranquilizers, and our futurama
All of it lapped up by that rabid hound
In the loud stone swamp
that rolled it up in the cacophony
of the man I used to be
the mountain trails that we put the deft boot of our conquests to, overgrow
like the gardens we warped into monuments
 of that fluorescent pink substance
we lit this bland nowhere with
after all this time
it is unfortunate that on this grey, monotonous day
I am missing you.
because it does'nt reflect you at all

just what you became with me

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