My current trend in writing is to treat it like bits of code. Debugging as time goes on (fixing spelling/grammarish issues).

Most of these poems will rest the way they are written, but given time and interest many will see a patches or 2 before it is over.

2.24.2006

my second job

standing at the street
curb's upper rim
the car
i was looking for
was simply not there
not where
i had left it the night before
'crack'
as the whicker basket
and laundry
hit the pavement
all rolled
  off down the hill
see,
i had forgotten that
i had already left for my
other job,
it was my first day and
thought late
was already on my way

my other job is not forgetting to take my
heroin
seattle's space needle
viewed from a second story
parking garage where i sent myself a post card
  a sort of message from the other side
  cause when you get fucked up all day
  you sort of want something left to remember it by,
a pink postmarked parking ticket
fondled its way south
through the postal system
right to me
eventually

back to today,
i cart-wheeled after
the clothing
now clogging up the gutter’s descent
made my way on the hoof to the local
laundry matte
the attending change machines
said nothing to me as
a sock dropped under foot
which sent me
via federal express
air born
my hands,
over my
  shirts
  pants
  towels
  and unmentionables
a near by counter
grasped but failed
to thwart the falling
however i did swipe a
collection can for jerry’s kids
on the way down
thuds and suds,
we all landed flat
eventually

ceiling slowly
focused itself
the light fixtures
perspective was
  me strew across
  a myriad of cloth
  a jar of mixed change
  floors tile white/black
  lint balls tumbling

composure regained
stowed the garments
collected the presidential circumferences
stuffed them
back into the vault
placed the bloated jerry jar
back on the counter

this place
this laundry bastion
seemed empty,
  only machines
  fluorescent gas filled tubes flickers
  jerry's change for tots
  some spun cotton
  highly extracted petrol threads
  and me

turned to face the
monetary chameleon contraption
tried to withdraw a couple
of washington’s from my pocket
but nothing
and all i could hear
in my inner ear
was the echos
of gilded copper filled with zinc
as they spread across the room
but right now
they lay there
on the unhelpful level
resting
all of these
  quarters
  nickels
  dimes
  dreams
help up inside
the
  unfastened,
  unfettered,
  unattended,
  waiting
thief's dream
of jar

i realized then staring
at the
  jack pot
  golden rainbow
  rabbit's paw
  spending spree
that i didn’t have
another job
so who was driving
my car

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