unfinished

i don't much like sitting next to someone who does'nt speak much so it gets to the point that i gotta say SOMETHING even if it's something crazy like "i wish i had a little kite right now so i could fly it out the window...it would only be about this big(gesturing with hands the size of a perch)and fly on the breeze this car is making,but i'd have to keep it kind of low,lest i hit the power lines (grinning now and looking back at leer eyed emptiness of thought kinda sittin there like a jackass waiting to be kicked).i feel guilty for having thought the jackass comment and wonder if he has telepathy for that stare he left unbroken,but soon focused on the road ahead.1

so i watch as he grabs for his cigarettes and even though i know better2

i want one for myself,and can almost taste it(having quit myself only a few months previous)but now also remember that sick taste and gut feeling3

about clogged lungs and spit coughing in the morning till i ALMOST vomit. 4

i'm sitting here in my living room as i write this,so my thought drifts5

between what it is i write and Maria Sharapova,that lanky sex daydream6

incarnate as her lovely legs wrap aound my neck and shoulder for some lickey lick licks,and everytime she hits that ball emitting that ohhhhh...7

ohhhh...ohhhhh...that i now make center stage of my fancy of the labia lap8

afternoon in the reverie of lonely 'ol me writing about something i just forgot.hmmmm...9

so we twist down the road,and come up to the next account,house on a hill landscaped so that it looks kinda like a piece(very small)of a mountain getaway(now i think of "THE GETAWAY" with Kim Basinger,ahhhh)and here we sit. dude says to me,"do you know which one it is?" and i  naturally point at the WRONG house(purposely),and not caring much of the job or even where we're gonna cut,just wanting to get home and smoke a little green,and he says "these people don't want you to whip close to the siding,do you know why?" i look back with stunned blankness as to why he would think me such an idiot that he would TRY to explain EVERYTHING to me,(i am 11 years older)but in good spirit say "ok i won't whip too close at all man,it fucks up the siding and makes it all crackey.". he, "cool" 10

me,"alrighty then i'll get all junked out and whippy now." 11

he,"huh?" 12

me,"nothing man"(thinking,"this guy isn't ANY fun at all")13

and getting around to the side of the house so some gay fat man will point out exactly where to whip and that he wants me to get around the fence real good."sure" i said, and take in the beauty of his cramped yard complete with concrete benches and seriously want to take a break or nap,but think better of it cause gayman looks lonely and i don't want to tempt him lying around on his bird poop benches sprawled out and defenseless nocturnal.14

tv and now Sharapova,so long at 6 ft 2,and now frustrated,but if she loses match,wins the war of hotness against just about anyone(irony she down at 6-2 in match),and pouty Dementiava rues the loss garnered,to Peirce(tittied),Dementavia hairpinned turn softshaped nose and perfect,with ass to match and small breast wonders of my mind,Sharapova too...)away from the television...15

i whip extra close to the house,and perfectly done to the amazed blaze'16

of inbred co-hort,and we off to the next house for more grass and some nasty stolen water from hose,(tastes like rubber factory in the nose)17

and quenched but sickened.eeeuu-uugghhh. 18

M.I.L.F. ROLLS BY  smiled and (swinger?)almost winked or did she? anyhow kept down the road ahead and i'm still unsatisfied,next 5 minutes brings another,to the point where i get past staring and looking instead.(i'm not ugly,so you husbands out there count your blessings so that next time i don't take the a-train into paradise amongst the bushes)(YEAH!)my sexual frustration now becoming appearent to you the reader,who bored,19

still read on in hopes of some redeeming factor in this waste of time story,if you want that go find a book somewhere,and leave me alone!i'm a poet not a storywriter!next...20

i recount amphetamine weeks and wish out loud for them as he rolled a joint in the waking morning street yawning near the McDonald's low pay lot while buldozers doze,and really i must admit now playing with the dirt over THERE beneath birds of dawn rising NOVI TWP. nearby, and pigs drift oblivious down the road to next free meal or breakfast.(why in the hell should they get free junk when they get paid SO much,...a lot more than the folks who SERVE the servants!)and my thoughts rise with the clouds of smoke joining in atmospheric dance so i think "does the sky wonder how blue it is? or wonder about those crazy bugs milling about and blowing things up down there,but really that atmosphere aware of our innards and lungs(and even your cooch girls,as your pussy farts to another plunge),ahhh to be the air and know all and see all and...uck!21

on second thought i don't want to be outhouse air!" "what the fuck are you talking about "said my crazy little friend,and i just realize those thoughts unraveled out loud.22

come on babe!(screaming Sharapova's favor!)stringy blonde hanging hair now like the gold from her ears,and she pushes back ,the sun now drags beyond the tennis court and hides behind the roof as she gulps once more of thirsty tongue,and if i could be the water filling her mouth and moving past those lips down to the seat of her soul.and every fiber of my being would now pour through her pours and cooling down the heat inherent in that sweet body of goddess trickle down past nipples thighs and ending upon the feet,and happy all the way down i go. but,elsewhere in time...23

the day drags on to the near end when after 12 hours in that heavy sun batters even the strongest of us to the point of complete exhuastion and hard breath laboured for $7.00 hourly (in my case) and $17to $22 of that spent on making it through the day,so that i say i never want to labor in this shithole kind of work ever again,thrist and hunger and nothing left but to pay the barest of bills and hardly at that!America is built on the backs of the poor and lived on the stomping feet of the rich who demand more from below as they jump hard and cry harder for production!PRODUCTION! PRODUCTION! More for less,lest i can't make my yacht payment on time,or god forbid have to postpone my latest addition to the vacation house in Alpine meaning little Chad won't get his ski lesson on time.24

i'm gonna save up my loot to move off to Amsterdam!25

but on my way home i see an elderly vet,flag waving in honor of battlefield bravery,and time may one day reward him with erasure of those memories branded into his soul,but who am i kidding? amnesia or alzheimer's disease really probably can't rid him of scars,and mental scars don't fade anyhow,so that i feel much better about my place in life,cause i really am free to make mistakes,and pop any pills or smoke any weed,or write terrible stories,or make change of any aspect of my shitty little life,and it's all my fault anyhow,this guy had no use of his legs and saw much death,and still happy just for being here,and going down the street on his scooter to his quiet house and sometimes nightmares of that day in 1944 that he sweats his pillow and upon waking screams,or maybe just crying softly in the night,till death comes and says "it's over now,come with me." and leads him off to his own heaven,or26

where we can't know,until our own time comes.27

but i will say that there was a time when life was much simpler,and all i needed to know was how to tie my shoelaces,and that the beatles(for me)were the greatest band in the world,and how to daydream,and almost any mistake i made could be rectified by apologizing(not anymore),and ice cream gave you a nasty headache when you ate it too fast,and mom makes for a great chair,and a dog's breath smells funny,and there are some interesting things to find when you go way down to the part of the road that you can't yet see,and when you get lost look for a police officer28

so he can try and figure out where it is you live,and when mom is yelling at you for getting lost in the first place she really is yelling cause29

she loves you,and wherever you go in life it's a good place to be because 30

you are there,and even if you feel uncomfortable in a certain room or place you can always look out the nearest window and find escape there,and even if someone says they're your friend they can still try and steal things from you,and hard metal toys make great weapons when needed,31

and all the other things that one can learn about when growing up.32

my personal favorite memory is when the girls next door(sisters) would teach me more about kissing,and the female anatomy,and what mine was supposed to be for.one was angie and the other sara,both of them were33

really pretty and knew a lot more about this sort of thing,because everytime we got together i learned a new trick or two.this went on for one glorious year,and i must admit it was one of the happiest i've yet to know,but as i would soon find out all good things really do meet and untimely end,and it was back to being an unpopular kid(the strange one)in school who got beat up for stupid reasons(also ugly duckling syndrome)even the sisters paid less attention to me before we moved off to another neighborhood,so that i became so isolated i routinely daydreamed about being anywhere but where i was at any point of the day in school.34

my favorite part of the day was the busride home so that i could envision myself driving alongside the bus(i found out later that neal cassidy and jack kerouac did the same thing as children and it's probably more common then i thought upon that revelation)or just hypnotized by the stripe on the road sometimes finding that some jerk just threw gum in my hair(jealous baldies)and having brown girl delight soon huddling around me to comfort and help get the gum out.now that i've rambled completely off the path i originally intended,i'm going to the bathroom to brush my teeth,and go to sleep.and write more later.35