January 2005 / Volume VI / Issue I
Ralph Baker

A COLLAGE OF EVERY TIME I SEE VINCENT

The cab driver turns to me and says,
“Did you feel that?”

“It felt like the road was pulling us,
holding us back...”

I’m always too drunk.

How come I’ve never been arrested for
public intoxication in this town?
Oh wait; yes I have.

The cute girl in the blue wig sends her friend
because she’s too shy to talk to me
When I say she’s cute too they both leave.

But that’s my luck.

I vaguely recall going through his closet,
looking over all the props from David Lynch movies
he had ordered on Ebay.

Wondering if he was hitting on me.

Me and his friend;
He gave me a ride to my car (when I still had one)
We climbed the wall of the hippie commune
in the Mexican side of town.

The hippies were evicted weeks ago.
Gentrification.

We did a couple bumps of speed,
then pissed on the stage my band played on
just six months ago.

Let the realtors clean it up.

But then someone opened the house door–
from the inside, and we leapt that fucking wall
with meth-induced fear.

We took a lot of pictures that night
in the bathroom of the goth club–
and the biker guy (the one that threw his drink on me later)
said–

“You fellers ain’t faggots’s are ya?”

How did I get home that night?
RETURN to JANUARY 2005