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DREAMS OR MEMORIES

There was once this girl.
Naw. I don't wanna talk about it.
I mean I can't. Don't know how.
It was so long ago, maybe only
somethin' I dreamed. Maybe
ina nother life. The sun was in her eyes.
An' rollin' fields too. I was rollin'
in warm light. Me and her . . . .
Me an' her was magic.
We was a song.
Wind an' leaves an' a sky of flowers.
Slow rollin' till heaven broke . . . .



SOME KINDA CURSE

There's this here stink ina house
I can't get rid of.
Maybe somethin' crawled up ina wall
an' died. But the smell ain't no stronger
by the walls than anywhere else.

I check the trash, under the sink,
all through the john, ina closet.
Nothin' rottin' ina refrigerator
or behind the stove or couch.
So's at least I can see.

I can't figure it.
Wherever I go the stink is there.
Now what kinda curse is this!



TRAFFIC STOP

You put a uniform on some people
they start believin' they's god.
Like this crossin' guard on 39th Street.
I mean she lives for stoppin' traffic.
Every day I walk past
it's the same--she struttin' the street
arms out, whistle blowin',
don't matter there's no kids to cross.
She stoppin' cars ina middle ofa street,
makin' them wait till a truck
comes up to a stop sign,
then she waves him on.
No matter how far away he is,
how tied up traffic gets.

Hey, she got the whistle,
the gloves an' the boots,
a blue coat an' a dinky badge.
No secret what she really wants.
A gun. An' maybe an excuse to use it.



GOTTA HAVE A BETTER PLAN

I'm ona beach, I think.
There's half-naked bodies all around.
Maybe I don't belong, I dunno.
I go into this apartment
that got a coupla beds comin' outa walls.
I meet this woman, we sit on one a them
an' start makin' out. Other women
keep comin' by interruptin'. There's
a lotta light outside. I'm talkin'
like someone else an' look that way too.
I got this thin face an' pointy nose,
an' I'm wearin' a suit--Jeez,
I don't even own a suit.

Me an' this woman keep playin' around.
I don't know what's goin' on
but gotta drive over a mountain
to get home. It's a long way.
I gotta make dinner. An' it's late.
I'm real hungry but don't know for what.



HARD ROCK

I'm thinkin' about rocks today,
all kinds a rocks.
You got your basic city rock,
an' your big country rock,
an' them skinny ones you find ina alley.
Then there's them smooth ones down by the river,
an' the ones you trip over ina dark.
You got them tiny ones the cat kicks,
an' the ones that grow ina garden.

Everywhere, everywhere there's rocks.
But none of them ain't so hard
as the rocks ina your head.
Or them boulders ina your heart.



FIRST FROST

It's cold an' I can't think.
Kazu's outside howling
"fuck the Proboosh" over again.
He means the pastor of the Polish church
up the street who's been dead forty years.

It's all nuts. Next the wind
whistles through the door cracks,
cacklin' like some Halloween ghost.
Nothin' ain't right, I keep tellin' myself.
An' no matter how many times I say it,
I just don't listen.



KING OF THE ROAD

Too much time, that's what it is.
Too much time doin' nothin'.
Maybe I oughta get a hobby.
I give up tryin' to get a job.
But I gotta do somethin?.
Somethin' simple
that's gonna keep my mind offa the wall.

Nothin' comes to mind
'cept collectin' trash offa street.
An' that won't look too good.
I mean I ain't exactly homeless.



SPECIAL DELIVERY

I got this mailman
who's always dressed for winter--
heavy coat, scarf, a cap
lined with fake raccoon fur.
Could be sixty degrees fahcrissake
an' he's out there trudgin'
like he's in Alaska or somethin'.
I see him an' don't know what.
Usta say, "hey, think it'll snow?"
"You never know," he says.
Always the same answer.

If I hadda job like that
I wouldn't go bundlin' up.
No sir. I'd be strippin' down,
fast gettin' rid of alla that ina my bag.
Maybe I'd even lose a few of them dreams,
a few of them memories.