Dali Felt Disappointed.
At a vending machine, his dribbling wrists
the code for M&M's. Though
he had the 85 cents required
for the delicious snack he craved,
he got nothing.
had a hobby, and his blood dripped like honey.
Early, it rambled onto half-melting paintings.
Now, all he wanted was
a pack of crunchy M&M's.
Good shit. Chocolate. Only melts in your mouth,
unlike ice. Comes in a pretty blue wrapper.
Doesn't get sticky.
Dali's hands got a little shaky.
Frothing, drooling at the outh, he palm-smacked the glass.
to try to break it, twice more
'cause he liked the thumb. Once more when
his back hit the glass, he slumped down,
and pouted by the slot with the flap
that made sure he couldn't reach
the Pop Tarts and popcorn on the bottom row.
M&M's were on the row above the bottom row.
Dali's hands were deafening. The sound of
callus on glass, the running
rush of red wine
from the half-oopen sleepy eyelids in his wrists.
Dali couldn't hear himself think, and he
see a thing past his life: flashing
behind his eyelids and fading before
Awards and praise, rewards,
were sent to him for his life's work
in the mail
Dali had a little problem:
I didn't think the afterthought,
nor did I egg the funeral on.
you got the wrong man, man
I turned the other cheek
'til it was a full moon
That was my only crime.
a lightbulb's swings
provide squeaks to light
to the match, the silence
the detective sighs
What about battery
without intent to recharge?
or breaking and entering
without leaving a note?
The perp's perm shivered.
You're right! Lock me up
I'm out of every control
but my own and that office
-the office where I control-
is a bureaucracy
of the most ordered kind!
Your whispers only tell me
your tone, for sakes (God's).
The detective's eyes rolled
Okay, you've convinced me
the light sways between
just a moment
I'll set you free - sounds of doors opening
The detective snorts,
like he's pulling
a pistol from his coat
Everything in a Second
was a way out:
the window, his right hand clenched
He could definitely jump
and get minimal cuts, scrapes and regrets
gave him a little too much time to think
The gun staring at him
had no eyelid and would never blink
ashtray in the trash
And the cigarettes in the ashtray
One rough draft
A crumpled love letter could burn down this
The gun was pointing
Accusing him, a rigid boneless finger
United so tightly
With the bent flesh digit on
The window shades
made a highlight on the gunner's eyes
"I'm gonna count to three"
Said with authority,
like in a movie
Once he got to three
There were only two sounds in the snow white world
The door opening
the gunshot that got the last word
Danny Tells Me Something
No, just let me-just listen.
I had a dream in my sleep in
that was lifelong in the two hours between 8 and 10 on a Saturday morning
that was hazy like movies about the
60s from the 60s,
But more Easy Rider or Bonnie
maybe a little Hard Day's Night and Batman; Not so much Dr. No.
No, that morning was hazy. Foggy. And
didn?t spread to the dream I had
that took place in the present in the fantasies I've had throughout my
as seen through a cracked glass eye.
But the dream! Back to the dream:
From behind the counter selling
cod and salmon
that were of questionable freshness
(but always fresh if you ask my mouth)
to uppercutting the undead
that had just fallen,
an old job, a new life, my hobbies and zombies
were all in my dream.
It was Arthurian
questing on acid in a blender
for a milkshake that tasted so damned good
on a haze-fog morning in my sleep.
of this dream, I was in a record store
that treated me like a foreign diplomat.
I could buy some Air Supply or Hall
& Oates without
that sniggering clerk, and it was
that diamond-in-pavement kind of beautiful dream:
or shame in having
that cover, Prince's Lovesexy, on top of my stack of CDs.
see that you're getting impatient!
Hey, the story is not the one the dream told! The story is
that I could have a dream.
a ski lift, a grocery store, a hike and a girl
could come together in a man's head from 8-10
on a paperweight eyelid
Saturday morning after soda fizz Friday
while I wasn't even trying to dream.
I was just sleeping.