: play card drinking games; escape to 7-11; riding back into the drive I spill on the gravel scraping parallel lines up my arm; “Where were you? What happened to your arm?”; not too much longer and I’m stricken with the urge to ride home; crash into a futon;
* * *
Asses the situation; this could be bad; blood stain on the bedsheet; breakfast of champions is frosted cornflake cereal and chocopies washed down with a sweet canned coffee; spaghetti; eating like a co-ed; iTunes geeking out, new playlists, sorting; waiting to watch Project Runway; A. and I ride to Seize the Day; afterwards we ride around town; up and down the streets we hear firework booms; we start for the train station; the sound is closer but nowhere near; see R. on his way home from Sapporo carrying Jupiter bags; stop in front of a barber shop; Kurt Cobain is the mascot for a haircutters union; talk about an I. zine; the frantic and polite voices of politicians over loudspeakers; we follow the sounds, a new game, of chase the candidates vans; waving red light sticks, swinging lanterns; they wave with white gloves while pontificating through the microphone, their voices ricochet off building faces; we follow the ghostly sound; near an ENEOS it catches us like a nightmarish sentinel, its bullhorn a weapon, its lights feverish; new drinking game – take a shot everytime someone cries on Project Runway.
No comments:
Post a Comment