yellow man fever

i was born jaundiced...yellow as the most beautiful, pure, and ripened dandelion...drinking dandelion wine...drinking from the open sewers of eternity...breathing on the iron lung of the basement...of the iron clad contracts of the damned...sweating out the memories of last night...drowning in the dewey morning...it has almost been thirty years to the day...and i can't believe i am here...still to enjoy the evening, still to curse the day...we all suffer silent, pretending, and believing in the twilight's soft embrace...what to say, on a night in jersey, far from the city's indifference...far from last year's helplessness...rolling onwards...counting the mile markers, the infinite rails, the lost highway...

'ello miss us

the howling on the street is blowing in on a friday morning breeze...it is september again...praise the gods of this world...and the gods of the others...i feel like yelling approval to my fellow nighthawks on the street...but alas, even after a few whiskeys i am much too sedate...must be my old age catching on..."aw me ole hip is botherin' me...it me gimpy knee again...must be that ole wiffle ball injury catchin' up"...on nights like this it is great to remember what i have forgotten...like days at the nursery...sitting on buckets, drinking lemonade and eating graham crackers...a strange combination no doubt...reading 'the pig can jig'...oh shit...how fucking great was that...i wish i wrote that book...the piggies dancing in the early autumn sunlight, happy and care-be-gone...tonite i am waiting for a friend from the isles to come on into the crystal city, and missing another friend from those same isles...it was only a few years ago when i could walk to the pub and see them both...but that is all evaporation, condensation, illumination...so i will see you tomorrow, either here or there...time itself is the saddest fellow, sitting at the end of the bar nursing his drink and sobbing silently...why you ask?...because time misses us all...