July 2004 / Volume Five / Issue Three / Online
Jonathan Hayes
BLAH, BLAH

i feel
like i
did back then
but back then
was harmless
cuz
it was back then
a new student
of
milvia street
by the high school
in
white trash motel
parking lot
stephen king
spook you
like donít touch
squirrel got his parents
next / door
and keeps
walking
back from their room w/ way too too much
highway on his tongue
vision in vein
knives and drugs and bad tattoos
dave
sits
on the king size bed
w/ chicks and dudes and dogs
all around him
holding street riff-raff court
missing most of his front teeth
fell while rescuing someone
in the northern cascade mountains
thirty years old
and older then us
pink floyd the wall
green prison tattoo
on his chest
over left titty
each brick
a thought of glue cement thick
a pirateís grin in a eye blink thin
he takes the motel room mirror down
420 white labrador puppy dog smiles
and me
j-bro
watching the porcupines spin their needles
sent down to university avenue
to get 420 puppy dogfood
come back and squirrel kicks meth
bones it up
and then he goes back to indian conversation
his girlfriend tells me
she enjoys hearing him talk about his tribe
and crazy john who always talks is silently reading a
book
on the floor
each chapter a hole in the arm
there are about ten of us from telegraph avenue
all spun and stupid and brave and beautiful
the motel lights never go out
and the moon hangs on one side
and the sun hangs on the other
and always
some kind of indescribable
in
the oakland
hills