saturday

I cant tell the story of the mural i put on my wall
i cant figure out where im supposed to be.
im sick of retrospect
i just watched the longest movie on earth
why hasn't scorsese won anything
or did he
i cannot remember the name of anyone
or the birthdays of everyone
how can you live in the moment if all you do is remember the past
im sick of the past.
sick of winter
sick of the ice melting down my windows
my phone doesnt ring
my lips are so chapped
but no one will kiss them
how come there are so many people in this world
and how come we have to die
if i didnt have to die i wouldnt care what today is
i had this vision of driving to the cemetary to say goodbye to myrle.
i had this dream that dr. ginsberg found cancer in my arm
it woke me up.
then ilona moved into my house
even though its a studio
i hate dreaming
and when old friends haunt me
ok so now that all that is out
and the sun no longer shines on the bricks
the day continues
cold
but not terribly lonely
its ok to be alone

its going to be ok