Democrat, Illinois - The ElectroLounge

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manse crowded with sick & broken kindred,
moments long gone, sum them here, now,
moments pretty with laughter, glow with
everything possible, decades, miles, lost,
else, two words:
It remains.
Three words: love bites hard.
A Cadillac at a cold springtime street corner, the buzz of Joy Division on the cassette deck,
smokes Galoise unfiltered, hardcore French cigarettes.
“Fuck Bush & all them oil whores! Fuck them. Fuck the Democrats & their pussy whine!
Fuck the Jews & their endless war raising! Fuck the Muslims & their secret greed for self-immolation
for Allah’s glory! Fuck my ex-wife & her butch cunt new lover! Fuck my parents for calling sex
Mommy’s & Daddy’s monthly home vacation! Fuck God! I’d like to with both fists!” Pounds the
steering wheel & hits the gas.
“Is this our TV show?”
“Dunno.”
“Who’s he?”
“He looks like you!”
“Ha! I’m no TV show! An’ I don’ talk like that, all cussin’.”
Two words: it’s spreading.
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lxii.
“I don’t intend to teach you everything. You’ll take to some topics more than others.
What I intend is to watch out for you. In return you’ll keep me knowing the streets better.
An old man is like an old boat, slow, less maneuverable, not safe in more turbulent, murky
waters. Sometimes we’ll work together, maybe days or weeks at it. This is one way it’s done.
There are others, unknown others. A single method would render everyone vulnerable. Not
everything gets through.”
Dylan listened, & waited for his instructions. Being young, he was used to lectures &
then orders. He liked this man, wondered what he could need that Dylan could do.
But no instructions came. Or was it when he said “beware & be aware”? He didn’t
know but they did not come in any way he could easily figure anyway.
The mushrooms & the many hours had tired him. He knew an alley nearby where
sleep would be safe.
But the old man wasn’t done with him yet.
lxiii.
Wondering new at life’s each new schism, where does what’s gone go, & here a new
angle & I do not know what it means (yes, I’m back on the page, at least for the moment).
63
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