i want to write
like warren hayes
plays his guitar.
it's enough to
make the three
used rubbers on
the floor have feelings,
enough to make those
twenty butts in the
ashtray get up and dance.
TWO FOR TUESDAY
when i pass savannah, georgia and the clouds
are there and zz top did what they did i see blue
skies again. mississippi that way. up and down the
other. pearl jam in raleigh, north carolina tonight
and it's all about the freedom now even when i
don't realize it's making me happy. sometimes,
i get so free i forget. i forget i don't know where
my home is. i forget that girl i used to know.
there's bad news before exit 109. terrible crash.
news crews already there. a guy running across
interstate 95. it is the middle of april. the concert
is killer. red necks and preppies though. 37 dollars
to our name. they wouldn't even let me buy beers
without my id. hicks. next day i find myself eating
a turkey sub in a gas station parking lot because it's
so god damn nice out. new york can wait for me there.
i still got dick going but being on the road these last
three months has certainly changed things. my birthday
is in three weeks. thirty two years of age. i'll be lucky
to get a phone call. i don't give a shit. anyway--
heading to richmond to fag off with those punks.
hardly anyone around anymore. wall and his kids.
pauly and matty with the girls. new york city life is so
different. i wonder what sar's up to. i hope she's fine.
junior stole van halen's 1984 outta the sub joint. girl gone
bad is on and we're going about 80 down this stretch. god signs
and semi's everywhere. blown tires and trees forever. junior's
driving and going crazy inside and to think that this all
happen only a couple weeks back. i was walking down the street
and junior said we had three options: vegas, san fran or fla.
i've been or at least passed thru all three. in a matter of
a day, a day
after i met a beautiful girl named natalie, i was gone for
three straight weeks. i've written her as best i could. i wrote
about the other one as best i could. take your time, sari.
find love. in
virginia nothing looks different. emporia is ten miles away.
wherever the fuck that is.
BLACKOUT
the best girls always loved me till' i changed
my scene. they push lazy out the door with my
piss and vinegar and want to see me in my worst
state to kick me when i'm down. they don't
know nothing bout' saving me. the heat is on.
the power is on everywhere cept' chelsea and my
block: blacks, pr's, gays, and whatever you
call people like me. the hipsters are bullshit.
the lower east side is trust fund heaven. junior
says at least the chicks uptown know their deal.
so keep your brooklyn t-shirts and gas station hats,
those cute little beat up shoes you got for three bucks.
it took you an hour to pick out your shitty outfit just
to say you didn't care what you looked like anyway.
your boyfriend and you are the biggest fucking posers
in the world. 9:03 the lights came on and your boyfriend
and you are still the biggest fucking posers in the world.
VIBRANT
sometimes i burn so bad but she don't
know it. she don't know it when she rubs
my feet or asks me to shave. she don't know
my favorite song or what makes me put
my fist thru the wall. she can't understand
the stand i've made. she don't understand that
sometimes writing is just a thought when nobody's
around. that's why she gets drunk and kicks
at my door while i'm fucking. she says something
about the g i lent her or me saving her
relationship was bullshit. probably was but
it's just writing. just like the old man getting
grinded at the go go. he has permission to
get blowjobs. his name is the hammer. everything
is just dealing with the loneliness. when a man
loves something it's everything to him. he will
follow it into the black, into the guilt, into the big ass,
the old photographs, the stupid shit he's
said and she'll be waiting in harms way while
the oceans settle and she'll tell him to keep
on writing her bad love poems while the black crowes
play in the background of a super
market parking lot on a dull summer day.
TRUTH LOVE FROM MY HEART
to my darling...
i want you to know in my heart that i feel
so good with you for a long time until it
change to be love, but i don't know how do you
feel with me. because sometime you disappear
from me i try to understand you have to work. but
this moment is a special celebration valentine day
i want to know how much you will be think of me.
the gift i will give to you this valentine maybe it
no have value but i give it from my heart and i hope
you will keep it forever.
so i don't mind how you think about me, i just want
you to know i love you and still waiting you come
back to see me. do you know when we stay
together i feel like my life is yours, i think only
you can protect and take care of me all
my life so i want to be like that.
do you remember that we went to pay
obeisance to the monk at the temple i vow let
you love me, take care me forever and don't
forget me when you leave. now i pray for my
vow everyday i want it to be fact, i don't mind
right now you have someone or not. i just want
to know i love you, i understand we're so far
but it isn't important to me because my heart will go
on with you anywhere and anytime...
truth love from my heart...
nam...
THE PATH NOBODY KNOWS
i don't know any writers
really. i know kids who want to write,
who try to write,
who shouldn't be writing.
the circle is small.
doesn't seem justified with the amount of books in space.
one time i met a woman in a book store
who said it took her twelve years to finish
her novel and that was only the first draft.
i see poets on broadway jumping
around and showboatin' how tough
it is but i'm not sure if they're suffering.
real suffering doesn't connect to anybody but yourself.
fact is i don't want to meet any writers.
they can't be in my head or in my room
so what's the fucking difference.
i don't want to join a book club
or take classes with house wives or rich kids.
don't want to help others learn how to
send the shit out or clap at poetry readings
when i'm really not feeling it. can't say i'll
have much in common with a published writer either.
fuck if they want to come back to the private hell
and give me an opinion about what's going on.
i feel no bond with anybody there.
i respect the solitude and significance of the craft too
much to care
about anybody but me. if that sounds selfish get used to it.
spit farther than anybody you know.
that's how i know it has to be.
BOOTS THE LUCKY CAT
jibby and i used to live in orlando.
we were betting hard on football,
paying matty off thru some bookie in miami.
had this little shit cat we nicknamed boots
who always came around. neither one of us
liked cats but we liked him.
we fed him milk and potato chips.
he seemed into that. i don't even know if he was a he but
he loved
hanging out for the games so fuck it--he was a he.
jib and i lost just about every fucking game
that season and by the playoffs i had to sell the t.v.
just to make rent. come to think of it boots was a jinx.
he was a freeloader who enjoyed being around trouble. maybe
that's why
he fit in so good with us.
I'M A 32 YEAR OLD MAN AND YOU'RE A 26 YEAR OLD WOMAN
I told her i'd be doing a reading and she said
she'd be in back with a whoopee cushion. i asked
her if she still packed her panties in ziploc bags
and she told me not to mock it. she turned her
head to cough and i spit on the floor. she told
me it was what it was and i said it was for now.
i grew a beard and she made a face. i waited
patiently and she went to santa barbara without
me. she moved to a new apartment and so did i.
i worked on another book and she got a boyfriend.
she landed a job traveling around the globe and i got
another gig at a cowboy bar. she made fake love
last night while i bagged another whore. she had a cocktail
with friends and i drank 15 belvedere dirty rocks
all by myself. she went to bed at 10:37 and got
up at 5:23 in the morning. i went to bed at
5:23 and got up at 10:37 at night. she kissed him
good bye and didn't cry. i kissed my pillows good
bye and cried a little. she heard silence and i heard her
breathing. she said life is great and i wondered what
the hell was going on. she'd been everywhere once and loved it.
i been everywhere twice and hated it both times.
i looked around nyc and just figured there was no other
place to move
to. i told her i would never marry her
and she said there was no future. she said i
would be famous and i turned all our
pictures face down in the apartment. nobody
paid attention to her life. nobody
was reading my shit. i promised my baby i would keep her rolling
and show her the world but she said she didn't want that
kind of life
anymore.
i promised my baby things.
when i'm looking at undefeatable odds all by myself and
she never was able to understand the writing.
when i'm digging in hotel drawers looking for cash left
behind and i
close my eyes
all i need is love sometimes.
all i need is love.
GETTING FIRED
i've been fired from almost every job i
ever had. it's always the same. you can
feel it coming. the manager is usually
a prick. the owner doesn't talk to anyone.
you know it's not your fault. your just
in another spot where you weren't supposed
to be in the first place. they make the biggest
production about it, as if they're taking
everything from you. sometimes i just
don't show up and they never call to see
if something happened. they just forget
about you and get a replacement. some pull the
rug out from underneath you unexpectedly.
those one's kill because that's usually the time
when rent is due. some take the time to tell
you your a good person but you just didn't
work out. i've never been let down nicely
or laid off with a package. i've never had a
good job like that. those probably feel like
breaking up with somebody. getting fired is
what happens when you have something
better in your life than just paying the rent.
it means your supposed to be doing something
else. i feel sorry for the people who just stick
with it miserable. you spend more time with
these folks than you do the people you care
about. love what you do. paying your dues is
something else. otherwise, it's the biggest
fucking waste of time on the planet.
PATTAYA
i sit in the dark. stare at myself in
the mirror smoking a short one. the mini
bar is full. i fucked the same honey two
nights in a row. i shit out the 89 bhat
all you can eat. i vomit after that. i
really do and the rubber broke again.
i only gave her 600. i can't shake the
dirtiness off my body. it's insurmountable.
there are thousands of reasons why i
need a new love but i can't think of any from
here. there's too much action outside. shit
loads of whores working the beer gardens for
10 to 20 dollars fucks. my honey's got a
little girl who asked me what happened to
my hair. i tell her the wind blew it off.
my head is pink and peeling. i'm almost
showing brain or i'm turning into an alien.
the girls call me king kong because i'm
hairy. i sit in the dark and stare at
my face. i have no funds at all. i
can't keep a job for shit and honey left
her roses in a glass of water. that's
the only pretty thing in the room. hi five
hotel in pattaya, thailand. fuck
new york. fuck it's cold and hipster
fuck crowd. fuck fake poets and actors
and other writers. fuck the good girl in
a bad spot. fuck the 21 year old
jibby screwed into the ground. fuck the
way your looking at me. fuck asking her
if she's tired during sex. she'll only tell me she's
the champion and want it all night long instead.
FLUFF
no matter how cold it gets in new york
i know the road is out there somewhere.
i can't see what's next in my life.
it's just a place i find myself
every once in a while.
i walk by girls hoping for a
smile but they just keep on walking.
the scales are uneven.
i walk for miles and watch
people walk dogs or hold hands on dates.
i stare inside cabs looking for one person
in particular and i imagine me reading
this thing in front of strangers
someday and while hipsters ring off words
that leave the room higher and he's
got on some special leather jacket
that means he lives below 14th
i'm still here talking about my
sari sucking dick or me jerking off to 1980 porno
because there's really nothing left to do.
there's been talk about going off to st. thomas
come january but if i don't get some cash together
i'll end up killing myself at her place
of work because that will ruin everything
from there and i don't want to scare you,
doll at the third chair from the left.
i wanted to give my life to her
in a different way but i can't walk single file
and i can't listen to fluff and i smoke
too much and i fucked so many women
i lost count but i want to be honest with you before
you fall in love with me and you will.
there can't be any other way to say these things
from here.
look at me. look at me. listen to my voice.
there are a hundred things i could say to
make it right but i could always
fuck it up with one single sentence in
a matter of
sec
o
nds.
More About Michael Internicola:
A novelist, M.A. Internicola is the author of three
previous novels,
KISS ME BABY, SUNFLOWERS!, CHAZ, and ALL OUR SKIES ARE
BLUE. The poems
included here are from two separate poetry books, MALISM
and THE
DARKEST PLACE IS UNDER A STREETLIGHT, both completed early
2004. His
poems, prose and fiction have appeared or are forthcoming in
Subterranean Quarterly, Tryst3, Half Drunk Muse, Open Wide
Magazine,
Edifice Wrecked, Snakeskin, The 2nd Hand, Caffeine
Magazine, Zygote In
My Coffee, Remark, Ragged Edge,The Quadrangle, Mule, Spent
Meat,
The-Hold, Antipatico, Lunatic Chameleon, Kant Magazine,
Subtle Tea,
Fragment Magazine, The Surface, The God Particle, Thieves
Jargon,
Smokebox, James River Poetry Review and The Mosquito Lounge
Review. He
lives in New York City.
