Democrat, Illinois - The ElectroLounge

58 !
think “Benny” in my mind over & over & over & over & hope & wait & keep saying it over
& over & over—
!"#$%#&'()#$*$+,$*$-.&#$/001!
!
lvi.
Maybe he’ll come, maybe he won’t, I slow my frantic & slowly assemble my limbs,
make a freak grab for my will, stand? Maybe stand?
I don’t know if I’m standing but within the image holds, I bear it lightly,
“Better, mate”
Now he comes.
“Explain any of this?”
He laughs.
“Not a word?”
“You don’t need one & there isn’t one you’d like.”
“Not much help now you’re here.”
“Help? I can give you help. Change it. Uncause it. Disappear everything around you.
What else?”
“What next?”
“Make something better!”
I’m sitting on a dirty bus in a coastal city after a long night shilling for a corporatedoled
pittance & think: I want to disappear from this story awhile, no me but at the far end
of a black pen
that’s what’s better, what I intend, a push forward from a throw long unmade—
here it is, watch me go, the blank store windows, the chilled clear air—going, going,
the music on my little machine, the old black woolen coat on my back—my red t-shirt says
Las Vegas
going going
my beat clothes, beat eyeglasses—leaving to some other angle on these pages
going going
just as loving
deep deep loving—
leaving the bus near my home & hoping this will shoot this world somewhere new
good, dangerous,
matters even more—gone—
lvii.
Write grateful beyond the azure wings against downy sky, praise high higher from
mind & memory’s snowy drunken throne, recall what good ever, conjure it now, world not a
pull between good & evil but kindness & numb, empathy & disinterest
large black hands slowly turn over cards to reveal deeper what is, remember how it
felt to wonder how this would feel
smack the vein to pour in the icy illusion, smack again til the arm is raw with abuse