at best it was

at best it was

an honorable mention of

names, dropped like jesus

as a baby.

god i am so blessed

ly alone tonight. it's warm

enough to wear no socks

on the back stoop. no

snow. no snacks.

xmas sunday teeters along, full

of a huge moon &

like witches sprung,

zombies amassed, every

day is hollow. that brilliance

of a promiscuous promenade

through the mundane but spontaneous

pseudo-urban, pseudo-rural

thirst that is, nature.

thirty thousand documented and grouped

yet plenty more uncategorized humans

groping a seaside curtain

some six block radius

corners home. the new one,

same as no other but

yesterday was similar & doused

with sun. everything's hot

like the electric bass that surprised

me wrapped in tinfoil & wire,

presented by generous friends

i don't deserve. even a skull drawn

to remind the audience that i come

from the dead of a late late night,

& i've been listening

because i have the room unshared

by lovers & it is merely

a transitory muse. i want to be the available one,

which sometimes means remote

ears & secrets,

isolated

might someone's parents be potentially

proud to glimpse the Adult in every idea

i pass through, to somehow peek into

all the nights drinking, the group sex-

usual therapy? i am (not) sleeping

in a tropical-themed guest room

that was once pink & called

mine. instead i chew on ends

of pens & pull from bottles of anesthesia,

under the impressive presumption

that distance makes the heart grow

huge. and unavailable.

12.24.04