tentative premieres
because of "uninspired"
Posted 04-05-2013 at 07:58 PM by moudiwort
Received call at 5: 34 p.m.: "Serge?" – "Hm?"
"M. is dead!" – "Sure, asshole!" – "I’m so sorry."
"Wait!" – I dropped the phone, rolled a Blitz-joint. Stick
From lovely Muang Thai. Shouted: "Gotta pee. Hold on!"
Bathroom no option: stench like hell. Sink does it.
Lighting the stick: "K. what?" – It hit me like an angry boot in my face:
"Serge, she died in a car crash this morning! Switch on your fucking tv."
It was a grand scene in full color, they did not show the bodies
But I recognized the emerald Benz Coupé.
Leaned back, cried and did not understand.
Inhaled, noticed the stench, ignored the stench, “George!”
Had I seen his truck outside? Wait a sec … how come I’m here anyway?
She must have driven me back home. Did we have some horse here?
Total blackout. Last thing, very last thing: her green eyes sucking mine.
Nagas, Thai snake demons , hiss perfumed mantras directly into my clouded brains
The self of the I shrinks, a tiny black diamond explodes…
George’s a mess. Stinks. I hand him the last bottle from my stolen Whiskey supply:
Chivas, mind you. Throw 3 roofies into his gaping mouthhole.
You can tell: I like him. He wakes up. Love his smile. Fucked-up Sheffield trucker guy!
He’s trying to talk but of course it’s in vain. Just keep smiling so I know you’re good.
What, Jesus, what are we livin’ for? Love his blond hair. I’m not gay.
George! Ya think you can make it? Getting’ us downtown? He coughs:
Sure! – Got your license on you? – Wanna see? – No, it’s cool. Let’
s march!
We mount the cabin; 122 ° ; we roll the melting windows down.
You can’t miss it, George. Just roll ahead!
We roll, we smoke. “ Hitchcock!” – “Ya!”
“Turn to the right, then to the left and we’re done.”
Slow down, man. Left! – He’s such a sweetie! Some Turk
Fucked him down in Saloniki or Novy Sad, the dark Balkans,
Georgie lost his trailer back in Slovenia or Austria. Flotsam
On my dried-up shore. I needed a lift anyway so we smoothly
Make it downtown. Park at the city baths.
“Follow me!” – “Serge” – “Oh WHAT?” – “I, … I gotta go,
I think I just shit my pants!” – “GET LOST!”
On my own again I felt at home at once. Peers lurking
In front of our joint. M. is there, the dottoressa, brimming.
“Sweetie, what’s up? “- “ Come! Come! Serge, you ass, come over!”
“How is your boyfriend, M?” – “ Fuck you, Serge, want some?”
I gulp the pills down. “See that ass over there?” – “Ok?”
“He wants morphine. Got oxycodone” – “Haha, k, sure!”
She drives to his parents’ place: we park, we settle down,
He pays, more, he gets it, And then I like M.’s syringe in my vein!
“You said there were uhm… “ _ “Serge, you asshole, shut up!”
We are relaxed down in the park at the pond: the ducks are asleep.
“Nightbirds!” I yell. M. hits me with the Champagne bottle.
Hisses: “ Look at Heinz!” Heinz is staring at the moon and grins.
“Let’s go!” – she whispers. …
I think we left.
I sat there, embalmed with the stench George had left, and I did
Not really try to decipher his inane scribbling on that sheet of paper
He had put under the empty whiskey bottle.
I was M.’s official heir now. She seemed to have had some premonition.
A lot of people called, I’d never heard of. I spare you the dealing chatter.
M. - post mortem - made me rich. Why me I had no clue. We never had sex,
She did not love me. It seems I was just around at the right time.
George had abandoned me. I let myself and my apartment get wasted
By a schizophrenic punk songstress. One night I left the after-show party
Without her, puked in front of the restaurant and mounted a cab.
There was a red haired girl sitting next to me and that was you, as you know.
Oh, you know quite well, I don’t buy any metaphysical bullshit and still:
You were there! My guardian angel. And you bowed down for me,
Stretched yourself out, your limbs my playground, your ears my confessor.
And there was no sin big enough for you to stop loving me.
But still l craved Miryam, the punk girl. She satisfied my darker needs.
And so we all sailed lovingly into the abyss of insatiable human desire.
"M. is dead!" – "Sure, asshole!" – "I’m so sorry."
"Wait!" – I dropped the phone, rolled a Blitz-joint. Stick
From lovely Muang Thai. Shouted: "Gotta pee. Hold on!"
Bathroom no option: stench like hell. Sink does it.
Lighting the stick: "K. what?" – It hit me like an angry boot in my face:
"Serge, she died in a car crash this morning! Switch on your fucking tv."
It was a grand scene in full color, they did not show the bodies
But I recognized the emerald Benz Coupé.
Leaned back, cried and did not understand.
Inhaled, noticed the stench, ignored the stench, “George!”
Had I seen his truck outside? Wait a sec … how come I’m here anyway?
She must have driven me back home. Did we have some horse here?
Total blackout. Last thing, very last thing: her green eyes sucking mine.
Nagas, Thai snake demons , hiss perfumed mantras directly into my clouded brains
The self of the I shrinks, a tiny black diamond explodes…
George’s a mess. Stinks. I hand him the last bottle from my stolen Whiskey supply:
Chivas, mind you. Throw 3 roofies into his gaping mouthhole.
You can tell: I like him. He wakes up. Love his smile. Fucked-up Sheffield trucker guy!
He’s trying to talk but of course it’s in vain. Just keep smiling so I know you’re good.
What, Jesus, what are we livin’ for? Love his blond hair. I’m not gay.
George! Ya think you can make it? Getting’ us downtown? He coughs:
Sure! – Got your license on you? – Wanna see? – No, it’s cool. Let’
s march!
We mount the cabin; 122 ° ; we roll the melting windows down.
You can’t miss it, George. Just roll ahead!
We roll, we smoke. “ Hitchcock!” – “Ya!”
“Turn to the right, then to the left and we’re done.”
Slow down, man. Left! – He’s such a sweetie! Some Turk
Fucked him down in Saloniki or Novy Sad, the dark Balkans,
Georgie lost his trailer back in Slovenia or Austria. Flotsam
On my dried-up shore. I needed a lift anyway so we smoothly
Make it downtown. Park at the city baths.
“Follow me!” – “Serge” – “Oh WHAT?” – “I, … I gotta go,
I think I just shit my pants!” – “GET LOST!”
On my own again I felt at home at once. Peers lurking
In front of our joint. M. is there, the dottoressa, brimming.
“Sweetie, what’s up? “- “ Come! Come! Serge, you ass, come over!”
“How is your boyfriend, M?” – “ Fuck you, Serge, want some?”
I gulp the pills down. “See that ass over there?” – “Ok?”
“He wants morphine. Got oxycodone” – “Haha, k, sure!”
She drives to his parents’ place: we park, we settle down,
He pays, more, he gets it, And then I like M.’s syringe in my vein!
“You said there were uhm… “ _ “Serge, you asshole, shut up!”
We are relaxed down in the park at the pond: the ducks are asleep.
“Nightbirds!” I yell. M. hits me with the Champagne bottle.
Hisses: “ Look at Heinz!” Heinz is staring at the moon and grins.
“Let’s go!” – she whispers. …
I think we left.
I sat there, embalmed with the stench George had left, and I did
Not really try to decipher his inane scribbling on that sheet of paper
He had put under the empty whiskey bottle.
I was M.’s official heir now. She seemed to have had some premonition.
A lot of people called, I’d never heard of. I spare you the dealing chatter.
M. - post mortem - made me rich. Why me I had no clue. We never had sex,
She did not love me. It seems I was just around at the right time.
George had abandoned me. I let myself and my apartment get wasted
By a schizophrenic punk songstress. One night I left the after-show party
Without her, puked in front of the restaurant and mounted a cab.
There was a red haired girl sitting next to me and that was you, as you know.
Oh, you know quite well, I don’t buy any metaphysical bullshit and still:
You were there! My guardian angel. And you bowed down for me,
Stretched yourself out, your limbs my playground, your ears my confessor.
And there was no sin big enough for you to stop loving me.
But still l craved Miryam, the punk girl. She satisfied my darker needs.
And so we all sailed lovingly into the abyss of insatiable human desire.
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