Sizzling steaming circles of
Red meat at the start of
A fast food assembly line
Pop and burn the scarred
and veiny backs of my hands.
The pen set aside so few hours
ago, so that a shiny silver spatula
can write it's own verse. So
I can trade Time for Money,
Money for Stuff; like the stiffs do.
A pimple faced boy, not much older
that the son that I haven't seen in years
yells at me to pay attention to
the daunting green screen suspended
over my head with it's demands of
Super-sized sandwiches and
french- fried potatoes.
My mind will not focus on these.
Instead I am in Paris.
I am in Rome. I am drinking wine with
Chinaski. I am in Khans Pleasure Dome.
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About Me
- stickbooth
- I struggle with addiction and am just recently out of prison- I dislike most people and am bitter and self destructive. Yet somehow I have a good time. My first wife wanted to be an FBI agent when I met her in college, and the last one was a prostitute,the former gave me three great kids that I named Dakota, Skye and Willow, the latter a hell of a hard time. In the past I have been a busboy, a waiter, and a bartender. I have worked in nearly all construction trades including carpentry, brick laying, electrical, weilding, and plumbing. Once I had a job where I climbed tree's for a living. I fought Mixed Martial Arts when they still called it No Holds Barred, I have sold cars and was an editorial cartoonist. I am a failed actor, to lazy to try very hard, and lived with outlaw bikers in Northern California. I served as a medic in the army,and studied creative writing as well as radio tv. I cook a mean breakfast and like to sit and think sometimes all day. Did I say think or drink?
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