Can we resolve the past - lurking jaws
joint of Time - the base - to come
of age in a dry place - holes & caves
The music was new black polished
chrome & came over the summer
like liquid night - the D.J.’s
Took pills to stay awake & play
for 7 days.
The General’s son had a sister.
They went down to see him.
They went to the studio & someone
knew him. Someone knew
the T.V. Showman
He came to our home room party &
played records & when he left,
in the hot noon sun, & walked
to his car, we saw the Chooks
had written F-U-C-K on his
windshield. He wiped it off
w/ a white rag &, smiling cooly,
drove away.
“He’s rich. Got a big car”.
My friend drove an hour each day
from the Mts. The bus gives
you a hard-on w/books in your
lap. We shot a bird at the
black M.P.
My gang will get you. Scenes
of rape in the arroyo. Seductions
in cars, abandoned buildings.
Fights at the food stand.
The dust. The Shoes
Opened shirts & raised collars.
Bright sculptured hair.
Spades dance best, from the hip.
Someone shot the bird on the
afternoon dance show. They gave
out free records to the best
couple.
Always a playground instructor,
never a killer. Always a bridesmaid
on the verge of fame, or over,
he maneuvered 2 girls into his
hotel room. One, a friend,
and a newer stranger, vaguely
Mexican or Puerto Rican.
Poor boy’s thighs & buttocks, scarred
by a father’s belt. She’s trying
to rise. Story of her boyfriend
& teen-age stone death games.
Handsome cat, dead in a car.
Come here
I love you.
Peace on earth
Will you die for me
eat me
this way
the end
- I’m surprised you could get it up.
He whips her lightly, sardonically
w/ belt.
- Haven’t I been thru enough? she asks.
The dark girl begins to bleed.
It’s Catholic heaven. I have an
ancient Indian crucifix around
my neck. My chest is hard
& brown. Lying on stained &
wretched sheets w/ a bleeding Virgin.
We could plan a murder, or
Start a religion.
