8.20.17

Seek shadows, the surest way to disappear,

believe me, even in crowds, even in well-lighted

spaces, stand where light fades and do nothing,

breathe not, move your eyes inside your head

and survive the world that way, with eyes,

with lingering glances and superstitious blinks.

.

I did this yesterday. I stood in a room and nobody

saw me, nobody cared. There was a pool table

with dust on the bezel. There was an oil painting

of a clown with a knife in its hand. There was a

stereo system that looked like a small spacecraft

or a futuristic burial tool. There was a wall lined

with cue sticks and wooden triangles. There was

an oval pillow the size of a small pool, meant,

I assume, to hold the sleep of a humungous dog.

There was a bar to my right,  dissected limes,

piles of salt, wedding rings and wallets,

scattered half-empty

bottles left capless and deranged on the counter,

abandoned by patrons of the beverage, manic

drink-pourers in a rush for poison, pouring and

wasting, trembling inaccurate hands,

liquor splashing on a variety of surfaces, and when

enough made it into the cup, the pourers ghosted.

There was a woman kissing a man she did not arrive with.

There was a stroller with a towel draped over it and sounds

of a crying baby reporting from inside. There was a chandelier.

.

Of the hundred or so people there was only one who noticed me,

who said, Oh what’s up man, what’re you doing? And I said,

I’m dying,

and he said, Oh cool right on, and he poured a drink and went

back outside.

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Written at 1:40 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.