jazz song (vague)
god;
i had such good things to say about this situation
before i got this drunk,
but then,
so did they.
i was going to say,
it’s so fucking clear
that she has the same
ocd
as her mom.
as she looks around for the source of that sound,
brings it up again and again,
begging for a source-
hell,
i can’t hear even it,
because i forgot my hearing aids on this trip-
but she needs to desperately to hear from somehow else
that that sound isn’t
coming from inside the house.
right?
that’s coming from the street?
okay,
thank you.
and maybe i’ll write something
more intelligent about this
tomorrow
but he is a 50
or maybe 60-something black man
that made excuses for white people,
and later explained
how angry he’s been
and maybe how he’s tired of being angry
and he gushes with me
about how shitty capitalism is
because it is
and then he turns in early for the night.
and me too,
buddy,
and me, too.