vicious

breakfast is a warm
rustlewaker for the
bones. my foaming
milkened coffee is

for slapping dreary
and shaking weary
dreams. scatty cat
should piss off and

leave me alone, oh
all right come and
purr on my lap. it’s
time for the hum &

drum to well come
into my day. left &
right and how are
you and good day

sir. ok, now, read
three hundred and
forty seven urgent
emails before time

to think and prep
for the onslaught
of Mr mister and
the nine fortyfive

sales review. I’m
going to be fucked
again and now the
shakes start, focus,

focus and pull all
your shit together
and breathe,

[black]

, she said, how was
your day, and i say
fine and i need more
than a foaming milk

coffee. rum-mmm
pouring to crystal
cut glass, now i’m
home. respite me

liquor iced friend
and ferment some
of the wilted hope
that remains of my

day. tow me back
to the start line ex
cept it might really
be the finish line.

party people

there was beer on ice and the scent of summer in the air. the light was teasing that in-between place where the city was as bright as the sun, differing only in their shade of orange. quite a few guests had arrived, and some old strangers had already become new curiosities. i hey-good-to-see-you-thanks-for-coming’d my way through the crowd to where i knew i’d find you. you poured me a smile as i poured the rum. we took a moment, to cast our eyes on what was laid out before us. you remarked how you liked that there was Adidas, Armani, and Peter Alexander all in the same place at the same time. i said that it was time to get started.