Junk Luck

April 21, 2009

I coughed, choked and spit up a mouthful of blood and teeth.
Sadly, the beating I’d gotten couldn’t compare to the pain I was already in.
Regardless of my broken face or tattered clothes, I picked myself up off the muddy street and started out slowly for the other side of town.
I was determined to rob someone, nothing violent mind you—just a smash and grab.  My aching bones felt like they were going to snap as I dragged myself along the uneven and unclean pavement.  I noticed a drug spot across the street and in a doorway I recognized, “the man.”  He was the one who beat and robbed me last night, so I kept my distance and my head turned low.  I had gotten down the block when a late model sedan came rushing around the corner and a shot rang out and the dealer dropped as the car sped away.  I rushed to aid him but he looked like he was dead, so I took his dope and cash and ran off into the chaos.
I checked into a fine hotel and shot smack and ordered room service—it was the most wonderful day of my life.
I was sitting on the clean, plush sofa, when I decided to enhance the moment with another small shot, so I reached for my works and cooked up a little while I watched TV.
When that warm, familiar feeling crept in I sighed and looked out the grand picture window at the declining sun. The city looked magnificent: inviting, exciting, captivating and free. But much to my dismay, the warm wave began to engulf me and being well aware of the situation’s reality knew, I’d waded out too far.
And when I took pleasure in my last thoughts, I smiled and beamed with joy for having experienced this moment, far removed from the day’s bloody start.  Blackness saturated everything around me like an ultra-heavy fog and the next morning, when my room’s door was once again opened, they found the body of a happy man.


Daydreamer

April 18, 2009

There were times when only the slightest breeze could carry him years backward,
beyond the porous border between trauma’s first scream and misery’s latest gasp.
When the seasons changed, he was even more vulnerable to these sudden departures, taking flight no matter what time or place.
Presently, he was again ensnared. This time it was the the trees’ sprightly flutter and fire-like splendor.
Taking in the tranquility he could never seem to find, his being began to uncoil,
slowly unraveling his heartbreaks and sorrows
but before the next falling leaf found its place upon the ground, he returned.


High Hopes

April 17, 2009

Most begin with only the highest aspirations,
before getting snagged,
then stuck.


Immortality

April 17, 2009

The sunny afterglow of a day gone wrong was not enough for the young man.
He needed answers. He needed hope.
He was tired of looking into the sky for what he knew he’d never find.
Aimlessly he trudged along the lonely, empty beach,
Struggling to remain fixed in his shoes as murky, white-tipped waves beckoned him.
He longed to join them in their definite, infinite swirl though the sand would not let him go.
A ragged seagull with jagged feathers and a cracked bill circled closely above and the young man sighed.
Quickly recognizing his predicament, the bird snickered and with his piloting skills,
Taunted his prey as he staggered toward the jetty in hopeless bid to take refuge.
When he gripped the slippery, algae-covered rock, his palm gave way to an unstable footing sending him backwards into the chilly surf,
And when the bird bore down upon him, he smiled at his foe.
Sinking ever deeper into the sand, the young man cried out with each peck and bite
And more gulls came.  All of them ugly, disheveled, mean.
In the final retreat of day’s last light, the cycle was complete, and
Under flickering shadows of scattering wings, rushing waters raced forward,
Sweeping up after the filthy feast.
And after one wave more, he was gone.


The Sleepwalker

April 17, 2009

dsc00126The Sleepwalker

No one knew his secret or the sleeplessness that held him.
Like every night he’d leave his bed for the empty, indifferent streets,
Grim fate shadowing his every move.
Just three hours more, two hours more.
The promise of daylight no longer held the answer
And with each step farther, he came closer to the end.


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