what was the stuff
\nyou got me
\nthat winter when
\nthe backs of my knees
\ndried out? <\/p>\n
cortisone,
\nshe says. <\/p>\n
ah cortisone
\nthank you. <\/p>\n
that all
\nyou needed? <\/p>\n
remember the first time
\nwe went walking
\nat the woodpecker trails? <\/p>\n
don’t
\njustin. <\/p>\n
ok
\ni’m sorry. <\/p>\n
go to bed. <\/p>\n
ok. <\/p>\n
goodnight. <\/p>\n
goodnight. <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
on a bench at the playground down the street <\/strong><\/p>\n our lives love this kind of nihilism standing on your toes <\/p>\n your grandfather’s cheek daddy his cheek will but he needs you. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n another dark haired intellectual <\/strong><\/p>\n don’t remember something about she railed i wanted so to prove i called a told her which of course so i downed stared deeply here’s one “you got a hole over the vast expanse <\/p>\n ribald unicorns once roamed <\/p>\n feral. <\/p>\n juniper <\/p>\n &<\/p>\n saffron <\/p>\n you got a hole let’s copulate i extended the vinyl strangely <\/p>\n i felt <\/p>\n mourning michael jackson<\/strong> <\/p>\n two city mowers the older one they wanted who broke down told him how i’d trade them malcom who? <\/p>\n
\nare nothing but
\ncan openers. <\/p>\n
\nand all its
\ngratuitous machinations
\nsimply illusions
\nto propagate more can openers. <\/p>\n
\nhas clogged your mind
\nsince the age of nine <\/p>\n
\na stone
\ninside his casket. <\/p>\n
\nmy shoe is untied,
\nsays your
\nthree year old son
\nplodding up to you. <\/p>\n
\nbe a stone
\ntoo. <\/p>\n
\nfor now <\/p>\n
\nexactly what i said
\nto piss
\nher off: <\/p>\n
\nthe majority
\nbeing little more
\nthan walking
\nstillbirths. <\/p>\n
\nabout every creature
\npossessing redeeming qualities
\nand none of us
\nhaving the moral fiat
\nto judge. <\/p>\n
\nto nut
\nin her mouth <\/p>\n
\nmy empathy
\nand gilded
\nheart <\/p>\n
\ntimeout <\/p>\n
\ni was a poet <\/p>\n
\nshe
\ndidn’t believe. <\/p>\n
\nanother shot of
\nmcgillicuddy’s <\/p>\n
\ninto her
\nleft eye. <\/p>\n
\ni’ve been working on,
\ni said
\nreciting the following
\nwith
\nsupple verve: <\/p>\n
\nand i got a rod <\/p>\n
\nand i got a rod: <\/p>\n
\nin posthumous tribute
\nto the unicorn.” <\/p>\n
\nmy arm: <\/p>\n
\non the bar-stool
\nwhere she had been sitting
\nwas quite
\nwarm. <\/p>\n
\nvictorious. <\/p>\n
\ndark as wet tar
\nsat idle on their machines
\nsmoking and drinking pop
\nas i rode by
\non my bicycle. <\/p>\n
\nwith a white goatee
\nmotioned me over. <\/p>\n
\nthe caucasian perspective: <\/p>\n
\nmore racial barriers,
\nmichael jackson
\nor michael jordan? <\/p>\n
\nfar as i was concerned
\nthey were both
\ndiversionary tactics. <\/p>\n
\nand three-fourths of the population at large
\nto bring back
\nmalcom x. <\/p>\n
\ni heard the younger one ask
\nas i pedaled away.<\/p>\n
![\"justin_0051\"](\"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2009\/09\/justin_0051.jpg\")
![\"justin_0052\"](\"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2009\/09\/justin_0052-150x150.jpg\")
our lives