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We were talking.
“What to write.” I said, “I Haven’t written anything in a while. About 3 weeks.”
His response: “Think of gibberish.”

Think of Gibberish,              (quibberish, libberish, bibbly-bobbly-blibberish)
That’s all I think of
That’s all I live on

–I get by day to day
–With a mind full
–Of Gibberish                       (quibberish, libberish, bibbly-bobbly-blibberish)

‘Course I don’t speak it,
How weird would that be?

–“Hi, how you doin’?”
–“Could you sit Pistachios?”
–“Huh?”

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I saw you again yesterday. Your head turned just so,
Your eyes with their usual sparkle-shine.

I passed on. I raised no hand in greeting.
I did not look back.

This is typical of my sort, my set;
Never look back. Never think of possible regret.

I imagine I’ll see you again soon however, in the field of my mind.
My madly waking mind.

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another hot and sticky day.

I wish I was born with wings, I could fly.
Into another sphere I would rise.
There to make love with the skies of another sky.
Big sigh,
Big breath.
But it’s useless,
I’m not a blimp; I can’t float.
I sink.
Beneath the weight of another hot and sticky day

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An Admonition

Take a Pluck from your Beard
twirl it in the air, sit
Stare at the Ash
Burn you Hopes before your Eyes
and Pray the God’s for your Desires
Sleep alone and shirtless
under the lightless Sky
and in the Morning mumble-yawn
and Ask yourself
Why?

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Your stuck in my brain
I don’t remember feeling a thing
Your face is a haze of shadow and light
All that’s left of alcohol nights
Your voice I can’t recall
Your name you never gave
There, at the tip of my tongue, your taste.

And

From me you have nothing
From you I took nothing
Neither the richer for it
Just a little stickier, older and spent
We part our bodies before the sun
We hug a goodbye , have a nice life
I remember you paid for the room.

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(A commission from my mother)

Little sisters are evil.
Big brothers are mean.
She always tattles.
He never plays nice.
My friends think she’s cute.
He thinks my friends are hot.
I tell them she’s satan in disguise.
I tell them he’s a good-for-nothing jackass.
She’s their favorite.
He gets away with everything!
I can’t get away with anything!

And that’s the truth of it, I could never get away with anything with my sister around. My roving out-of-body-closely-related conscious. Annoying little twit! Of course if anyone so much as looked at her funny I would kill them… are at least give them a good wuppin’.
Little sisters are at best an enigma. They come along and suddenly we have to worry about scratched knees and lost barbies!! What the hell is a Barbie anyway?!? Of course the attention goes away from me, I’m old news now. Siblings, they aught to make a law that allows you to strangle ’em every once in a while. ‘Course I’m sure my parents would have loved to do that to one-or-the-other of us or both of us on multiple occasions.
I never understood my sister’s crisis. I mean I could have understood if it was something like, “I don’t know how the shed blew up. It was there one second and BOOM!! gone. I have no idea how it happened.”(And I still don’t); that makes sense right? Not, “Susie doesn’t like me, and I have no idea why!!” all while bawling her eyes out. Ugh!
Our early years together, before I moved out and got a job and became “A PRODUCTIVE MEMBER OF SOCIETY!” were non stop arguments. I mean it was ridiculous, we’d say hello to each other and bam! Right into a knock-down-drag-out fight. It would have been a lot more peaceful if she would just admit that I was right, but NO. We’d go round after round, well into overtime about god knows what all, just so that she could say at the end, “Ok your right, I’m sorry. I should have seen it your way from the beginning.” Yeah right. More often than not parents would step in and then I’d start showing them, in a calm and collected manner I might add, just where I was right and why she should be apologizing to me and so on and then she would just sit there and blubber out some incoherent sentence about how I was a big meanie. And who do think they sided with?! Yup, you guessed it, tears carry the day, disgusting! So then, after I apologized (against my will!!) and spent time in my room, life would go back to normal… sigh, little sisters, I told you they were evil.
Now I call her pretty much every week and we stay caught up on each others lives. She asks advise on things and I give it even if she doesn’t ask because I’m a big brother. I send her money when she needs it and we laugh and talk smack about the parents and all that good stuff. She’s a pretty decent friend, I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to her. Heh, little sisters, like I said: ‘at best an enigma.’

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Any good memories, memories of happiness, I have or have had I systematically dismantle so that I may live in the present with nothing to distract me. And my memories become fantasy, dreams, unreality in which I dance with rag dolls, tattered and worn, whose faces had been (I had) painted on with a child’s whimsy.

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