Can we resolve the past - lurking jaws joint of Time - the base - to come of age in a dry place - holes & caves
The music was new black polished chrome & came over the summer like liquid night - the D.J.’s Took pills to stay awake & play for 7 days.
The General’s son had a sister. They went down to see him. They went to the studio & someone knew him. Someone knew the T.V. Showman
He came to our home room party & played records & when he left, in the hot noon sun, & walked to his car, we saw the Chooks had written F-U-C-K on his windshield. He wiped it off w/ a white rag &, smiling cooly, drove away.
“He’s rich. Got a big car”.
My friend drove an hour each day from the Mts. The bus gives you a hard-on w/books in your lap. We shot a bird at the black M.P.
My gang will get you. Scenes of rape in the arroyo. Seductions in cars, abandoned buildings. Fights at the food stand. The dust. The Shoes Opened shirts & raised collars. Bright sculptured hair. Spades dance best, from the hip.
Someone shot the bird on the afternoon dance show. They gave out free records to the best couple.
Always a playground instructor, never a killer. Always a bridesmaid on the verge of fame, or over, he maneuvered 2 girls into his hotel room. One, a friend, and a newer stranger, vaguely Mexican or Puerto Rican.
Poor boy’s thighs & buttocks, scarred by a father’s belt. She’s trying to rise. Story of her boyfriend & teen-age stone death games. Handsome cat, dead in a car.
Come here I love you. Peace on earth Will you die for me eat me this way the end
- I’m surprised you could get it up. He whips her lightly, sardonically w/ belt. - Haven’t I been thru enough? she asks.
The dark girl begins to bleed. It’s Catholic heaven. I have an ancient Indian crucifix around my neck. My chest is hard & brown. Lying on stained & wretched sheets w/ a bleeding Virgin. We could plan a murder, or Start a religion.