how far did you say the store was?
if it’s walking distance we should try
because the upside is enormous.
we could be sitting here in fifteen minutes
with cold beverages in our hands
and pride inside our hearts
of men who have achieved something.
i’ve got to be honest with you, man
i don’t like who i’m becoming
and i don’t think it’s possible to change.
but i fantasize about possible reinventions
like getting on a bus and traveling,
and stepping through the bus’ hydraulic doors a new man.
is this what is meant by change?
is change just an idea that once accepted
turns itself into a reality, like how alarm clocks
are programmed to animate themselves once
a day? or is it something i actually must attempt
that carries with it risk of failure? because i’m tired, man
i can’t attempt any more things that i might fail at.
how far was that store?
and what time does it close?
i think i’ve been there before, or one like it
all stores are the same, brightly lit,
toxic substances, receptacles for us to plunge our money into.
it’s better that way. if they keep our cash
we can’t spend it there willingly.
(i used to visit the liquor aisle in Ralph’s so often
that whenever i needed something else, like toilet paper,
i’d turn left at the entrance and travel through the liquor
even though the TP was the other direction, and i’d get trapped in
there, leave with a fifth of ON SALE don julio
and return home with nothing to wipe my ass with)
i refuse to go to supermarkets, man
mom & pop, these fucking corporations
are draining life, no, i’d rather just go
to these smaller liquor stores because i like
the people who own them, and their names
are always straightforward and to the point.
SUNSET LIQUOR AND SPIRITS
CORNER CIGARS AND LIQUOR
wait, what? what were we talking about? change,
that’s right. the sky just reminded me, how five minutes ago
it was blue and now it’s reddish pink, like a freshly punched face.
how is that? the atmosphere, gasses, i know, i know, but i’m saying
how? do you understand the gravity of the question? how?
how is it my apartment cost me $1700 when it had a view of
industrial waste and bums who defecated like dogs on the sidewalk?
how is it that three years ago we were fine?
how is it that me at 24 would shoot himself in the mouth
if he saw what he’d turn into. how is it that i care for nothing?
how is it that every time i talk to my mother she reminds of how
badly i’m fulfilling my sonship. how is it that we still have not
gone to the store or even established if it’s a place worth visiting or
how far it is from here?
great, it’s dark. i hate taking the bus when it’s dark.
the same people are on in the daytime but at night
they are more menacing, and they can look nowhere else
at my face. fuck this place. nothing changes.
i think i’m going to live out my dreams. i’ll get on
the first bus in the morning, headed to wherever,
even a few blocks over, i’ll get off at ivar and start
a new life as a sidestreet clairvoyant.
Written at 6:52 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.