This guy in the booth in front of me is built like a small
pachyderm scaling rashes on the back of his neck these
coffee shops are full of broken people who lived here and are
dying now being offered their favorite chemical blends on the way
out and convinced it is the water cancering their lives while I
eat their donuts and pizza and see their fats reflected in
my face in this monitor and know one good flu will burn it all
off but these are the ruminations of youth lost of love of
the unrequited the gone opportunity noted while passing
through these small towns in Pennsylvania named after German
and Swiss counterparts adjacent to those named after coal mining
industries where fuelish fracking and roman calcoholicism rule the
poor more now than in any earlier life yet more significantly
there must be some solution to this leprosy whether self-imposed
or otherwise this unwieldy sadness steadily punctuated with
false hopes that go nowhere in this rising destiny of failing
flesh this son-of-a-bitch of a storm that curses each
horizon in our courses of progress delineated
betwixt the sacred and profane they’re
cursing Obama they’re cursing their
government they’re cursing the
Christ in between mouthfuls
of plastic pastry particles and
creamy GMOs so angry at
the way things were and
angry at the way things
are and angry on the
intricate way back to the
dirt that inexplicably must
smother them from end to end.