the rain drums down on the window at 11:00 on Wednesday night, and I Stop in to the diner after a long day for a bite; I gloomily pick at french fries, and use them to scoop cole slaw And I can’t help but Overhearing the 30 year old busboy talk excitedly to the old sour-faced waitress- It’s just how Jay-Z got started! I just have to keep making beats, and sell a couple to get the money to get out of here, then I’m set! This shit is going to blow up, know sayin? No more wiping no fucking tables! My Dad told me I’m getting real good. Karen leans in with my check and smiles wryly and says with enough melancholy to break my heart- Some people are superstars in their own mind. I look at the check for 7.22. I leave her a 5 dollar tip for her wisdom. I walk out into the rain and shed a tear where it is quickly washed away and lost.
Tag Archives: originalpoetry.org
the world was in my grasp
and I turned my face away,
because I guess that’s who I am.
I guess i’d rather just watch railroad tracks,
Watch the trains rolling out
To California or El Paso,
Tacoma or Ontario,
or other places I’ll never go.
I let the door shut
on that perfect person
and for What?
Garbage and Broken families,
shadows of marshland memories,
Cold Tupperwares of tortellinis.
I guess i should have tried,
but it may be
that loving another
just isn’t for me.
it’s 2 am again, and Marco’s softly following a will-O’-the-wisp into the murky depths of the bog, stumbling over logs in the fog, trying to reach the light in the night before the glowing Red eyes of the Beast close in for the feast.
hey first people,
how is the reservation life treating you?
stop another freight train in Canada,
got a job serving drinks
at Red Wind casino?
more teen suicides
as you cry and watch your
keep on giving it a try,
and maybe by 2045
those treaty rights restored!
Bob’s son is dead, his world ended a few days ago,
But he was at work today.
He looked at me and said How are you Marco,
and I didn’t really have a reply, Because
The unliving Eyes of striped bass
and rainbow trout
bore holes in the back of my head.
It stank like fish blood.
I wonder what is happening in Trinidad right now,
it’s a weird thing to wonder about
Because as far as my concern goes,
Doesn’t even exist.
To me, wage slaves in Thailand or China
are just a great bargain at K-Mart.
But what am I to those slaves,
who put the stitches in my clothing?
Do they think absently about Paterson,
and ponder How was Marco’s day?
was hen bu Hao!
The world is a psychopath,
so watch where you put those fingers and toes
And Don’t trust anyone
you wouldn’t piss in front of.
Don’t stare too long into the eyes of a dead fish.
they start staring back,
And you won’t like what you see