On Veterans' Day I cut out a photo from the LA Times of a man standing in front of The Wall with his arm outstretched fingertips inches away from a name just a name inches away and he wasn't touching it just reaching for it as I'm sure he'd done before one last time before it became another name on The Wall reaching with so much pain so much hurt carved into his writhing face with mouth askew agape with pain with searing loss and napalmed memories exploding molten jelly thoughts from a past buried under bottles of whiskey now bubbling and trembling through the cracks of a hardened exterior and here I was cutting out this clipping because I thought it looked so cool it looked so neat with all that emotion so well composed, I had to hand it to you because I knew you'd been there I thought you might think it's cool I thought you might think I'm deep right up until the moment I blindsided you in the middle of your paperwork to say, hey, check this out check out what I found in the paper and you froze like a bullet whizzed by your ear like a grenade went off nearby and exploded shrapnel that tore through your modern day filled with phone calls and paperclips you froze with your arm outstretched fingertips inches away from this clipping just a clipping inches away and you're not touching it just reaching for it your eyes turned red blood red and you choked on the breath you were taking frozen there with red, glossy eyes you held in something trying to escape a hurricane from within you held it back with everything you had and said It was a very hard time
Red vinyl stretched over a seat cushion, but I'm not sure Maybe it was something else before - leather or cloth? or maybe it was always just red vinyl, of which I'm not even sure It’s hard to tell because it’s all still the same even though it’s been re-done One thing’s for certain, though, this sandwich was a lot cheaper back then A while ago it was half as expensive and before that it was only a quarter Maybe it was during the twenties - I’m positive though, it was after 1908 God, what a city you are! I’d give anything to go back in time And kiss every newly laid cornerstone in your Art Deco skyscrapers And drag my heels through the soot caking your streets I’d give anything to wander your alleys with the other vagrants of America Displaced from their homes in Indiana, Colorado, and Oklahoma We’d all get drunk together off a nickel’s bottle of gin In the inferno of an atomic summer, laughing at all the business men Sweating in their buggies, in their trolleys, their taxis, their coffins We’re the real ones – we’re the angels she’s named after Shoulder to shoulder in this dusty town, this overgrown meat factory Grinding out the rest of our lives in the shadows of the greatness you purport Riding that fine line between poverty and slight discomfort Hiding in the cracks of your majesty and brilliance We are the dregs of society and we are fine with that Because I just found a quarter and I’m going to buy myself A French dip sandwich to float me between the moments I bite into it And when I become hungry again
