Saturday, May 9, 2015

The Week Isn't Going According to Plan



May 2015

Try not to be disappointed that the week isn’t going according to plan. With all of the sun’s swift evolutions, the love of love, the time spent in lines, the hope for a change, the news tasting of chalk, stoned neighbors and excitable dogs,


somewhere along the line I got lost.


Remember how you used to swim naked in the Santa Ynez river, or how you took those magic mushrooms at the Santa Ynez river? Remember how you had to pull the car over, time and again like a shuddering cassette, to throw up on the highway?


I am sorry that higher education, though she does spread her legs, is not as desperate as you hoped she would be. I am sorry but not surprised.


Remember how you listened to Jefferson Airplane at the river and when you opened your eyes Brian was laughing in the sun and you watched peripherally familiar faces in the clouds? Try not to be disappointed that the week isn’t going according to plan.


That guy at the party was like a young soft dream or one of those cacti that look so fuzzy. Beware for they are not actually fuzzy.


Remember that time you petted a cactus that looked so fuzzy? It was not fuzzy and every quill was removed with tweezers fished from your mother’s purse. It was a Santa Barbara wedding in the mountains and you saw cave paintings and howled with surprise. Every pluck of the tweezers seemed to be that cactus intimating fuck you, or ha-ha!


Childhood is one long sunset. It is radiant like life bouncing off of a blade.


As you grow older, everything that hurts hurts twice. It hurts just as bad the second time. Pain isn’t a murky ephemeral trip anymore. Every love leaves a little bruise and when one day you walk into a table it twinges a reminder of that summer you ate magic mushrooms at the river and couldn’t drive the car very well and had all your drugs stolen and were stood up at the train station. You read poetry even then and it did hit you that your tragic sugar skeleton could not withstand all the knocking about indefinitely.


Much is indefinite.

I guess what I am trying to say is that I love you. 

Try not to be disappointed that the week isn’t going according to plan.
If you like, I’ll take you out for a crepe. The bike is ready to ride now.

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