State of the Union

i
upon the sidewalk that children and mothers stroll
while shopping for glamorous trinkets
whose worth will evaporate into nothing
during the car ride home,
are the dark splattered stains of misjudgment.
lined in a row at the base of the wall,
cowering in the corner,
unapologetically in the center, mid-stumble,
their memory endures beyond the night’s.

ii

the hollow light box bleats
questions, amazement, concern, analysis, commentary.
about the untimely, tragic death
of a drug addicted, pillaging white trash whore
impregnated by a faceless seed.
when i asked the girl
exchanging my plastic card for beer
‘who really cares?’
her answer stammered out with flashing eyelids
honestly shocked at the notion:
‘i’m just worried about her baby.’

indeed.

iii
the yellow metal monster rips across the landscape
with the indifference of a hand to mosquito.
what took a lifetime to build is cleared in minutes.
the grave marker posted at the asphalt’s black edge reads
‘ivy woods coming soon.’
their majesty replaced with dried and hollow carcasses,
fallen friends clumsily piled high
in the dumb repetition of a skipping record.
the only means of survival
is sucking out the sweet marrow of life
as a parasitic cancer on the land.

iv

i want only
to want what i need.
i’m supposed to want;
want what I need and more
until want becomes need.
needing to want is what they want.
they want me to need them.
they need that, not me.
i need what I don’t want,
i’ll never need what i want.
Want is wont,
but wanton need is worse.
i don’t want to want.
i don’t want to need.
why can’t i just be?

restored faith

while i only have twenty hours to finish a model which deserves about forty, a series of events this morning (half hour after i wake up qualifies as morning even if it is one thirty) that deserves note.

i didn't realize it was missing until i stumbled up to the counter to buy basswood for the aforementioned model, reached into my pocket to pull out only a phone. flustered, still sleeping, and disappointed at the notion of spending fifteen more minutes to return home to retrieve it, i left to do just that. after a fifteen minute search of the small apartment, car, bed, the only three places i had been in the last four hours, the realization of the only explanation enveloped me like a warm bath.

i tried to visit McDonald's for a quick and somewhat tasty bacon bagel, but they did not accept plastic at the time. i have not carried cash for about two months now and probably won't anytime soon. again, disappointed but satisfied not to spend six more dollars, drove home and fixed two salami sandwiches. the wallet on my lap stayed there until i got out of the car and fell to the ground.

*FUCK* capital letters does not describe the resounding scream, yell, exclamation which left my body in my parking lot.

i resolved it was gone and began to process the chain of events to simultaneously sever and reattach myself from its contents. i knew it was gone because of the riff-raff who lives below me who had stolen mail out of the mail box. i knew it was gone because the only parking spot at six in the morning was right next to the sidewalk. i knew it was gone because it makes sense, things were going too well, rather, too smoothly.

rummaging in my bed for the third time, a knock on the sliding door. the neighbor below and to the west, not the hoodlums who have hip hop parties every night with bass so loud my pictures move, asked if anyone had lost a wallet.

you're kidding.

his buddy had found it, turned it to him believing it was someones in the complex, and the exclamation clued him into someones frustration/realization/problem.

if i had any cash, it would have been his, but for now my gratitude, my restored faith in good people, the remembrance of a bumper sticker on chico's car 'good stuff happens,' will do.

what's even more amazing is the residuals, the lingering smell of your pillow from the woman you love when she has been gone for a week. i returned to buy the basswood for the model i'm still not working on and the girl i've worked with, seen countless times over the last three months, looked just a little cuter, her smile just a little more genuine, bright.

the perceptional framework one lives in is fantastic. how it shapes our reality. how the gesture of someone doing the right thing, being a good neighbor changes the face of a day, hopefully days, in an instant.

we need more of that.

thanks neighbor.

mmm, berlin

believe it or not, this is a transit stop on the Museuminsle in Berlin. though fictitious, i think it would be a nice installation...some day perhaps.