Growing up I had a friend whose mom raised Persian cats.

She must have had 30 or 40 of them. I thought they were ugly with their pushed in faces and there was cat hair everywhere. 

She had a little transistor radio on top of the refrigerator and she kept it tuned to a country and western station. 

Yuck. 

 

 I could go see D.

But I'd just end up getting fucked up.

We'd get high and watch weird tv.

I'd spend hours there until I figured he probably wants me to leave, that's why he put that shitty music on.

I'm not real good at taking a hint. 

La dee da

 The sun is too fucking bright out

I fucking hate that.

It's like living in LA.

Or Arizona or some shit.

Fuck that.

I live here because it's supposed to be all foggy.

Foggy SF.

With evening foghorns blasting in the distance.

One time a foghorn was so loud it sounded like the ship was two blocks away.

I swear to God.

 The creatures ate the wide eyed ladies

they had no sympathy 

did you see the dress on that one?!

She tasted pretty good!

 They moved on to the next town

 I got nothing to do

so I smoke cigarettes

read books

play guitar

I like to play guitar

I record it and add other instruments 

all on my phone

It doesn't sound bad

I'm definitely not a great musician 

most of it is downright not good

but I keep at it

some of it's not bad

that's the best I can say

 I flew in a double decker airplane in 1972

We went to Milwaukee to visit the grandparents.

In the back of the plane was a large circular staircase.

It led up to a piano bar. A piano bar on an airplane.

A man was playing the piano and people were smoking and drinking Tom Collin's and Gimlets and other assorted drinks. People were all well dressed and there was much gaiety.

 I don't feel real

I don't know

It's weird

 nothing seems real

 I wore a phony smile

all the world had become slightly odd

pills they gave me for my blood

had changed my brain

I trudged through life

legs like cement

the doctor kept prescribing more pills

"I'm worried about the..."

smoking and drinking probably didn't help

It ain't romantic

I boozed to forget it all

but then I got tired of it

Yuck booze

I drank so much 

every night

and did nothing much

so I quit 

And now I do nothing much but sober

 I heard a foghorn last night

off in the distance

  It sounded like it was 1969

I was in bed smoking

   with the window open

 The stars were put there for me

   I called out but the reply

was a gaggle of geese

I walked on

  I wonder if the Chinese place is open?

Kung Pao chicken waits for no man

 I moved like a broken cowboy 

   in a porn movie

my mustache was like the seventies

   I had no ADHD

   no pancake driven dreams

Leather chaps 

  and a corvette 

yellow and dripping oil

 

 There was no sigh of relief.

Cars were everywhere. The music played and played.

Some kind of African guitar and drums and some shaky thing. It went on and on.

Outside the sun poked through. A bus went by.

 His chakras were not aligned.

Birds chirped. 

The streets were wet.

African music played.

He was not in Africa.

 The cafe played Soweto street music.

 The hobo said

"It's another day. Nothing special about it."

As he drank his latte.

 

 I don't know nothing

I got a handle

on you

you're nothing

But I don't know you

Say la vee 

Je m'apelle Pinche 

  what's your name

  Bright Skies?

   Solemn Swine?

I just dunno

 I drank sake yesterday

 It cost one dollar

  at that price 

   who could say no?

     Everybody else

     but it was fun

    It's nice to drink booze

Occasionally