think I was so terribly new age with my television
going into cable they did it here before any place
else and all such drivel, the fanzine reactions to
power, I said, singing an ancient coca-cola jingle
as echoes from classic songs trigger a memory
growing up, getting it on, and getting caught
in the car by the shore when the cop drove by
that was white of you I said when they let us
go
each time I hear it I remember you and music
like some sound track come up in time it was
procul harem and procul harem's organ turned
a light fantastic cartwheel across the floor
- the crowd called out for more -
you saw them again in their suits a babyboom
reaction where have I met when will you meet
what could you do I sing to the echo of this
old girlfriend from way back I'd never catch
trudi, becky, lana
the fish swimming back and forth across its continent
train, bus, plane, car, wagon, horse - a time machine
in verse, suspended rubber over spinning highway - we
drove it all with the bookcases strapped onto a truck
or in the moving van.
living out from a trunk in the back of our car
the dream of every homeless gypsy, no, it went
beyond that, it was the time she lost the room
or that week when we missed the last apartment
yes, the cities spat their streets out for wash
every night in the same foggy dew that has come
here. our wild man had it too on his shellfish
days when food came from the earth, not from man.
I could not imagine how it was anything but markets
and surplus stores, but our survival tactics weren't
much use in rented rooms. I found walking wasn't how
the farmers can grow their crops, not walking alone,
no.I did not go to any highschool reunions until the 25th. Wrote this poem five or six years earlier to deal with my feelings of rambling insecurity about not being a millionaire before I was thirty....