Little Saigon

just when the cold of the day creeps in
i'm all alone, and for the most part
that is ok

then there's the turning in my stomach
and i want to be pissed
but i can't, because it's a worthless anger
and i have to shrug my shoulders and say
"oh well..."

because the drugged out punks
who tossed aside their angst
for ecstasy and mushrooms
forgot all about the struggle
and were right
and they were wrong

yes, none of this matters
but neither does the escape
the music, the drugs or the fucking

it's always a death
where a rebirth is required
but yet there is the living
in between everything
and beyond the silent steps
of our minds
we creep along gladly
into our studio apartments
to die alone
one last time

Portrait of an American Dad

whenever you're close
i scare you away
infinitely

and my kids watch from a distance
as i deteriorate
into a passing joke

it's not like i'm not sorry
i just can't help
but hope
for something
better than
this mess
i am in

I Awoke (In a Spider's Grave)

the untouchable lust
of a thing
that is radiantly disappearing
is so clean to me now
and arrested
free of lies
and the understatement
that is the
inhale and the
obligatory exhale
outward into a world
that barely exists
only in frames of time
and passageways onward

but i cannot
be on your side now
as you separate us
from each other
like it's just another
gust of wind
blowing through an open window
the curtains dance
we kiss and it's gone

not the wanting kiss
the kind that signals a fuck
but the kiss that platonic
strangers give, when
engaging in business matters
in the 1950s over dinner
with the threat of nuclear
holocaust looming in the
foreground, as rock n roll
ruined the world forever

no, yesterday i awoke
in a spiders grave
after the tossing and turning
now the flesh will rot
and all i have left
is a memory
of how it was
before i left while
the remorse fades
and i disappear

Tossing To and Fro

when she died the other night
i received three phone calls

my mother told me she may
not make it through the night
i sighed in disbelief
not a fleeting disbelief
but tangible disbelief
i thought she was lying
not in a malicious way
but to say that this is
what to expect
after living off and on
for 90 years
in a nursing home
in a condo
and on a sweaty hospital bed

then, my sister called
in a fit of discolored suffering
she told me my grandmother died
the one constant, the thing that did not change
was my grandmothers beating heart
her soft, toothless narratives
of Seattle in the 60's
and her blind eyes
that could always
recognize a familiar tone

then a stranger called
who had attached herself to my brother
someone who assumes i'm supposed to care
but i listened anyway
i consoled the stranger
told her that it was sweet of her to call
when it was actually an inconvenience

then i lay in bed
i wonder where my grandmother went
what am i supposed to tell the kids
when they're born and grow legs
and ask, "where is YOUR grandma?"
will i tell them, that she is in a happy place
surrounded by all of her beloved
or would i simply say, i don't know?