Saturday, February 1, 2014

5006. LISTEN TO THE HARMLESS

LISTEN TO THE HARMLESS
One degree above zero at 5am; like nothing I'd
imagined while sleeping. I awoke to find a pretzel 
in my mind : all those malfeasant children with their
toboggans and sleds, skates and skis. Just yesterday
they were falling off the cliff on Donaldson Road, and 
now they're nowhere to be seen. I like the dead 
silence much better anyway.
-
Look, look up at the dawn  -  red lines over the Raritan
River, red lines in the sky  -  a piece of the moon, somehow
left over from the day before, lingers. A New York City
bus goes whizzing by. I think I was supposed to be on it.
In it? On it? How's that go again?
-
Listen to the harmless drivel from a drunken man.
He's walking the street along the woods while trying
to clear his head  -   like Lou Reed once said, 'I guess
I just don't care, or I'd be driving a Dodge in Minnesota.'
Yeah, a certain kind of sense there I can understand.

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