Seven minutes spent recalling the weekend

Sweet success

we need another reason to get upset
something to hate
rancour and bitterness, fuel for our wittiness
we need someone to tell us no.


Dreaming, of mounties gunned down, the streets running with blood, the ice that kills you with cracked hips, the salt that corrodes through clothes, winter on its way out. We are melting slowly, slowly. Bitterness does not last through spring; there is the pain of rebirth. Phoenix again. Let’s head to
Arizona, I cannot forget that man I love. He is a bus driver; I will follow him – on muleback if I have to - into the grand canyon of my heart. I am dodging reproaches, following that bliss; I am doing what the movie screens tell me is good. I am going to fade into that good Warner Brothers sunset. I will let those credits wash right over me.

Extreme Birthday Fun

We are scavengers in this city
We crawl ten kilometres
East to west, to do our best
I knocked over a hobo just to snag a bus transfer
I never used to be this coldblooded
But there’s a fake marble trophy on the line
And the winner gets all the biotches?

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