So high I'm afraid of falling asleep.
The 'mrs.' waits for me in the bedroom-
trying to fall asleep without me. My time always

on accountability... Did I tell you that our front yard is the parking lot
to the Fast Shot
a pool hall on the boulevard to Venice?
I want to be here alone in thought- to write.
With some beefy-bass sound track
inviting the sharp lot lights
for a slow walk through venetian blinds.

(It takes morphine sulfate
these days to get away.
A cheap 60 mg. vacation

and the rest of my body
for a credit line.)


I really enjoyed the time
we stood outside your
bungalow- at the end of the long gravel drive.
With geese skimming along
the forested, autumn pond below;
and the slide rail sound
of the early morning commuter train
in the distance- from Boston to the end of the line;
to pick up more cologned, overcoated businessfolk
residing in saltboxes and colonials
on the edge of the western fringe.
We saw our breath that morning- sipping coffee
as I enjoyed a good smoke
in the frosty fresh air.
Though you don't smoke-
you enjoyed it with me too.
that's what a best friend is for, sometimes..

All before I knew Thoreau.










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