MEDITATION

meditation
I’ve decided to try and find god again
not through church or religion
or hallucinogenic drugs
(I’ve never believed in those pathways,
however dreadful or entertaining)
but through a simple practice
of meditation
trying to still the ever wild mind
maybe it’s not god that I’m looking for
but something other than myself
something that has no connection to this chaotic world
it must be silence that I’m after
and maybe god
not man or woman or beloved child
is just silence.
so I got into bed
leaned up against the wall
and crossed my legs
closed my eyes and looked into the blackness
and I tried to think of nothing
but you can’t really think of nothing
because even that is a thought
so I found myself fending off thoughts
protecting a thoughtlessness that
for all intensive purposes
I have never known
only when you try and sit still
and you tell your mind to quiet down
only then can you really understand
that there’s an ever present whirlwind
of bullshit thoughts
spinning around in your head.
first I thought of the bathroom at the bar where I work
I pictured the tiles on the walls
decades old
how terribly hideous they looked
blank and bland and with no sort of style
I thought about how the bathroom would look much better
if there were a few markers left in there
and people got to write graffiti on the walls
if the tiles were just covered in little ditties
rhymes and curses and warnings
like the bathrooms in old rock venues
back when free thought was not only tolerated
but almost encouraged.
then I thought of writing
I thought, Why am I sitting here doing this?
Why am I trying to still my mind?
I’ve already determined that writing is my ticket
the words are my way to mental salvation and freedom.
from there I went onto rock climbing
I’ve never completed a 5-10c
suddenly I was picturing myself bouldering
when suddenly the boulder seemed right in front of me
right in front of my mind’s vision of nothing
no problem
I simply thought my way out of there
I thought about a cross country motorcycle trip
and then about patriotism
how mine compares to the average American
I don’t leave my flag out in the rain like some people do
but then I don’t have it hanging outside, either
it’s inside by my desk
and it flutters in the breeze of my window fan
wait, which Patriot was at that party yesterday?
the one with the motorboats and the slip and slide
where the rapper named Knuckles
was supposedly going to perform
and what about the girl on that couch
was she single?
she sure was pretty with those nice tits
and then that girl who came into the bar last night
I could have looked at her license picture for fifteen minutes
I wonder how long I’ve been sitting here
trying to still my mind- shit!
stop thinking!
no thoughts!
and in this way a thousand thoughts
went through my head
trying to still my mind was like going out into a thunderstorm
trying to stay dry by holding a paper cup over my head
and the thoughts continued
because that is what the mind does
it thinks
and as soon as it thought of a frozen raspberry margarita
my alarm clock went off
and I got up
went down to the kitchen
and now here I am
with the margarita finished
the thoughts of god and silence still only thoughts
and the words
as always
my best company

HOPE IS A DRUNK ASSHOLE

hope is a drunk asshole
he threw his glass over his head
and it landed behind me
bounced twice on the carpeted stair
and tumbled down another two
before he turned around
and asked me what my problem was
“you’re my problem,” I say to him
guiding him towards the door
“I keep seeing you around and it’s always a drag.”
“what ever happened to you?” he asks
“you used to be a nice guy, you used
to be fun and we had crazy times.”
“I know we did,” I say, continuing to walk
to assist in his departure
“we did have some good times,
but that doesn’t mean I’ve ever liked you.
I can have good times with friends or with people
I don’t even like. You’re in the second category.”
“I can’t believe you, man. I can’t believe
you’re kicking me out of here.”
“it didn’t have to be like this. If you weren’t
a cocksucker, I wouldn’t have to kick you out.”
he turns to me and I’m ready to fight
but then he turns around and walks out
shouting over his shoulder how the place sucks
and how I suck and how everything sucks.
once he’s gone I take a deep breath
and just like after all the previous encounters with him
this person who thought I was his friend
this person who I’ve never liked
I hope that I’ll never see him again

A RUN

a run
today I went for a run
it wasn’t a jog
it was a full on run
not as fast as I could possibly go
but pretty close
and let me tell you:
it did not last long
over ten years have passed
since my days
as a champion runner
and let me tell you:
I am out of shape
I ran a few blocks
over to my friend’s place
but he wasn’t home
so I ran across the bridge
and turned around
luckily the bridge was going up
and I got to rest a good ten minutes
shooting the breeze
with a local bartender
and catching my breath
once I started again
I ran into the park
up onto benches and along curbs
that fun stuff
then I ran to my hairdresser
to pick up some money she owed me
for walking her dog
so I got a good breather there
and after I ran over to the bar where I work
picked up my paycheck
and told my friend
the bartender
to watch out
because I was having one hell of a run
and I’d be back in shape
in no time at all

FOR THE BIRDS

for the birds
these birds down in Market Square
they have no respect
for public etiquette
in flight
they brush past my ears
or the top of my head
caring little for my personal space
they sit down at my table
wholly uninvited
not looking for even a glimpse
of permission
their chatter can be heard
above everybody else
and they shit wherever they want
any human acting in such a way
would warrant a call to the police
they’d be handcuffed
stuffed into the back of a cruiser
and brought down to the station for booking
but not these birds
not these birds in Market Square
they don’t give a damn
they bicker and flirt
and eat right off the ground
and for some reason
which I cannot quite understand
everybody likes them for it
and so do I

THE WEEKLY INCIDENT

the weekly incident
every Saturday night
I stand outside the door
to the bar
where I work
spitting on the sidewalk
and looking up and down the street
checking out chicks
and watching for stumblers
every Saturday night
without fail
around nine PM
I see a brown skinned
little girl
speed across the opposite street
and disappear again
she’s always dressed in black
matching her long black hair
her eyes are dark brown
and her smile is broad
and I always think, “hey,
look at that cutie. What a babe!”
and just as I begin to wonder
who she is
whether or not I’ve seen her around
she turns to me
and gives a quick little wave
and I wave back and think,
“shit, I know that girl.”
and the reason I know her
is because I slept next to her
for two and half years
we shared rent
a bed
a television
and a dog
until it all went down in flames
and I fled the country
for seven months
to put enough space between us
but still
I can’t help but wonder
what she thinks
every Saturday
as she walks past and waves
on her way to another night’s work

BOOTS

boots
I can’t hide it anymore
I’m a sucker
a great big huge sucker
for a girl in boots
country western boots
tall stilettos
even boots that look like
they were stolen
from the filthy feet of Robin Hood
I don’t give a damn
I’m a sucker for them all
the clip clop sound they make
when a girl walks down the sidewalk
a big smile on her face
wagging an ass
strutting up a storm
forcing the sun to come out
from behind the clouds
making the old boys hearts
skip a few beats
while the young boys hearts
thump like jackhammers
on the construction site of love
and there I am
leaning against my shovel
constructing a monument
and dedicating it to
all those boot wearing girls out there

THE LANDING

the Landing
back in my college days
I spent a year-
no, wait
I wasn’t in college
and it wasn’t a year
it was everybody ELSE
that was in college
and it was more like four months
but anyway
I lived in this mad house
where most of the tenants
were drunk all the time
and the ones that weren’t
were in the kitchen
carving up 200 lb pigs
or in the basement
smoking weird herbs
and hiding under beds
the house was just up the street
from a river
with a parking lot
where people parked
to go boating or fishing
or to hide out for a while
when things weren’t going so well.
on the riverbank
at the edge of the parking lot
seagulls gathered in droves
and for some reason
this really pissed me off
I couldn’t handle the fact
that while I was busting my ass all day
climbing up ladders
and painting houses
and dealing with the weather
the employees
and the customers
these seagulls were just standing around
watching the time go by.
so one day
when driving home with a friend
I drove past our driveway
down to the parking lot
and I gunned my old truck across the sand
right up to the riverbank
honking my horn
and screaming out the window
“gahhhh! Get outta here! Ahhhh!”
the seagulls took flight
and I did a couple donuts
pumping my fist in the air
then drove back up the road
back into the driveway and home.
my friend asked me what it was all about
and I told him about the seagulls
how they’d been getting on my nerves
and how I’d finally snapped
he didn’t say a thing
and we left it at that
but then the next time he was driving home
and I was in his passenger seat
he drove past the driveway
down to the parking lot
and together we yelled out the windows
and did donuts
and scared the seagulls away again
and this soon became our habit
that every chance we could
we’d drive down there and scare away the seagulls
now six years have past
my friend is thirty years old
and I’m less than a year behind
but sometimes we still get together
maybe on some errand to fix the front axle of a jeep
or get falafels in that college town
and we make it a point
to drive down past our old driveway
back into the parking lot
to do a couple donuts
and remind those seagulls
that we’re still around
and we’re still not happy
about them sitting on that riverbank
all day and all night
just wasting their time away