A Departure

            He jumped the fence on Flushing near North Elliot Street, or Portland, he didn’t remember. It doesn’t matter. Of course it doesn’t, but there was a truth. It was one of those and his recollection should not rob a depiction of the events of the events themselves. They jumped the fence, him first than his friend, bikes lock up on Navy St two blocks away, a surprising uncertain walk along poorly paved grounds he always hated biking. Flashlights and beers. The barbed wire covering the fence had already been cut, which in a way was why they were there in the first place, they saw it in the daylight three or more weeks ago walking to Clinton Hill after he had his tire replaced in Dumbo. What a good day. And the wire was already cut and my god did it look inviting. The perfect youthful getaway in a sense. Like out of Tom Sawyer. They didn’t bring spray cans though, he thought it should be noted. They could have brought spray cans. It was likely what the infamous cutter had done when he hopped the fence, so to speak paving their way. Graffiti shamefully was probably more of a odd fantasy to him so look he didn’t actually do it. Hadn’t thought to. Shamefully, but he did hop the fence! And he did drink some beers in there, probably not overcome by wonder at the decaying structure but goddamn did he try. No one could say otherwise anyway, right? People will say he was overcome by wonder, that’s what his friend will tell people. As they used to say, not terror, but awe. Not that that kind of distinction means anything anymore. An echo of an echo. It was triumphant. It was powerful at least and triumphant. And he had taken some photographs, second long exposures. And then they had been caught by the police and then he sat here. And he didn’t have to be here, he hadn’t had to jump the fence, it should be noted. This was just some weird hypothetical like the rest. What makes this more real? 


3/28/2012

Another Girl

Stephen walked to 14th street to pick her up. In his mind it was thrity fourth street or time square, she had on a lush dress and hair down, something she never did, and he saw her as removed from reality. He saw her as a way out of mundanity and into a life of real events. Stories you could tell afterwards, not just stories you've read and can discuss. He knew she liked him. He asked if she was hungry, no, but they could go to an eatery if he wanted, but no, he wasn't hungry either. They lay on the grass in Tomkins park. He said he didn't like leaving the east village anymore hardly if he could help it. She laughed a lot at a lot of things. She smiled and put on and off big sunglasses and rolled over on the grass. He looked at her hips and remembered them. He knew there was depression under there. He had seen glimpses back when her hips weren't a memory. It's among what actracted him. Now what atracted him was her happiness. She was happiness, and she represented it, even more so because of that sad, and he wanted it in his life. He wondered, looking at her, lying on the grass, beautiful, if he really wanted her in his life. It was too easy for him to think about her as if she was not a person, to weigh the pros and cons of her. He hated it. He hated himself for it. He thought it had to be because of her transient relations with him. Briefly her hips were here and then they were not, he didn't get to talk to her again for weeks until now, lying on the grass, playing with her sunglasses. Everyone is a myth until you really know them. That can't be avoided. Everyone is a character in a poorly writen movie, one facet, one plotmoving purpose for being there. One personality. So he'll get to know her and he'll see the real human replace the cardboard cutout representing beauty and happiness and the human will be even better than the simple idea. He'll like her in reality more. Right?


He told her he thinks he likes her. She lauged. Really? Why? He didn't want to tell her. That she represented all this. He lauged and told her he didn't know. Liking someone is not really his style. He has to remember that he is just a cardboard cutout to her. He can ruin it later. He told her she should go out with him. She thought about it. He watched her lips as she bit them. Do girls really do that absentmindedly? Do they know how much it speaks to guys of sex? He watched her hips as she rolled over. He watched her hair as it was moved from her face. She told him no but she did it in a particular way. She told him she didn't think she could. She told him how much she liked him at one point and maybe now still. She told him she couldn't deal with it now. He knew she liked him. She liked him, right? She asked him if that was ok. He told her of course it wasn't but of course it'd have to be. They talked longer, about other things. Stephen stood up in the grass and wiped himself off.


Stephen walked into the party. Later he couldn't tell you wether it was the same night or two days later, not that he would have been talking to you anyway. He was sitting on the couch. A black couch, dark walls of the apartment. He liked that, you know. He knew she was there. She even came over and talked to him once. Half nerviously, knowing he was upset but wanting to come off as friendly or wanting to actaully be freindly, or residue of actually likeing him. He punched the guy she kissed later that night. He didn't have the bulk to do it. Cut lip, black eye, sore sholder, blue. He thought it would last longer. But it's alright. He saw it and thought he had to punch that guy. He thought, do people do that anymore? Isn't that possesive, sexist, worthless? He didn't think of her as a real person. He was ashamed of that. But this was the life of action she promised. This was the life that no longer existed in his generation. No one did this anymore. Stephen's fist concected with the guy's head and it was a story. Stephen felt his face meet a fist and felt it as if it was real. Then his sholder. It was too quick. No, he wanted to call, this should go longer! Stephen lay on ground as she yelled in sympathy and in anger and thought that he has lived his life today as if on paper. He thought about how nothing has deeper significance, there is no deeper significance. What he did today meant nothing, and no one knew what it ment except for him. 


you got me feeling like

Turning yourself ruby
connected yourself to the movies
contracted your blood running through me

I hope you don't find peace
at least you found your way out of here
you said at least it's not mundanity
but this is mundanity
there is no divinity
as you don't pass through me
hear my thoughts, you don't hear anything

shelter pt. 2

if I'm always fighting with my back against the wall

she said

I'm not going to adress that at all

I can't say I think about that at all

where would you rather be than here?

she said I don't know what that means she didn't

want to know anything about me

And if there's no shelter here I'll lock myself where it's found

in gas stoves to burn me

and barricades with no sound

no thought, no sex, no sound

but it makes sense that I'll end here

show you my lack of trust

I do like you, I do like you

but if we take this all the way

we will lose.

if you took out the bedsheet you'd see

the fire that happened to me

you left rosy in the morning

warm skin in light of dawning

burnt in from lack of curtains

and fire from manhattan

burnt in with longing patterns for me

if you took out the bedsheets you'd see

let me know what happened to me

the morning to make you coffee

I waste my time

smile and you'll feel better

smile and this pain will fall

smile and it'll make you happy

smile over your coffe

you said smile and it'll make you feel better

smile and you'll feel at all

smile it'll make you feel

you left rosy in the morning

warm skin in light of dawning

burnt in from lack of curtains

and fire from manhattan

fresh flared in from brooklyn

burnt in with longing patterns for me

bathed in sunshine

afraid of dying

bathed in sunshine

I am

afraid of dying

if you woke up too early you'd see

catch me as I'm trying to leave

well framed from where you sit

the angle the light hits

reflected to my dark eyes

calling me to touch your lips

overexposed never to be seen again

bathed in sunshine

afraid of dying

you are bathed in sunshine

I am afraid of dying

you are

bathed in my mind

I am

afraid of dying

if you took out the bedsheets you'd see

catch me as I'm trying to leave

the fire that happened to me

the morning I burn your coffee and waste my time

thinking smile and I'll feel better

smile and your pain will fall

smile and be happy

and pray for the morning

and pray for this falling

smile and you'll feel at all

because I'm afraid this is to small.

A golden bird on a golden boat

I will become

I am not strong I am not proud

I have not won

pull out your eyes with your nails

pull your cheeks down

pull your neck down

your memories out

the city

she told me you can't go back to the person you were, you can't ever and I told her to hell with that I will make of myself as I want to be and she said that no you can't, it won't be real anymore, it will be too thought out, you will see through it, you can't do it purely like you were I said there isn't anything about me I haven't premeditated, that's not how I work, that's not something I can change no matter how much I want to, everything about me I have made, I have thought out and considered what was best. there is nothing I like about myself that is not intentional, it was only ever the bad things, the social fuck ups, the empty egotism the selfishness the shyness, these were the things that I did not intend, nothing I like about myself I did accidentally. I told her there are probably things you like about me that I did without premeditation or I hope there are, things you don't tell me because you're not one to wax about the things you like about me or tell me anything you like about anyone and I thought perhaps that's a thing I like about girls, they must like about me things I have not noticed, things my sweeping arm of introspection, of self searching, ever turning, has not found.

but i'm not unsympathetic!