Long Weekend Tale

Jack Nicholson, in Chinatown...

The phone is ringing, but I do not answer. Instead, tonight, a friday night, I hide. Too afraid to take that last step that will complete the execution of the way that things used to be. A former self, a former life, one that no one seems to recognize any value in whatsoever, except of course, me, but its all draining away, every last drop, I can hear it trickling into the sewers outside my window. It is raining. Been a long time since a heavy downpour lasted through the night. The city weeps for me, I know it.

Saturday. I await the cool comfort of dusk in a cyclical revolution from the worn out sheets of my bed, to the bowl of my pipe, and the basin of my tub. Such incredible pain I felt today, all washed away by fast cars, drinks in crowded bars, the flash of colored currency, and the bitterness of scotch. Its time to start the night time, on the energy of fear.

Summer is here. Smoking on the steps of the orthodox church, the early morning sunday crowd send friendly greetings in my direction as they climb with wal-mart canes to their salvation. Last night's liquor sweats through my tiny pores, I am waiting for my cab to take me home where I will rest, and I will think, until it is time to reload again and fire upon the overwhelming feeling to stop.

Monday. Extended play. The weekend seems so long, I have lost all sense of time, all sense of everything. Falling over a bowl of strange mushrooms in the congee house, their erotic shapes beckon to be taken from the white bowl and tumbled in the mouth. It is empty here, yet somehow full. Politicians are in the area and reporters are sending correspondence east in english and french from the booth next to me, they start, they stop, they repeat, over and over it goes. Walking east, or was that south, no I tell you its north! Walking west, towards my oasis in the sand, the heat of the sun dries out my wet heart. I lie on my back and watch massive air ships lumber through the sky in the company of friends, food, and luke warm beer. I stay late enough to watch the burning red sunset, a fitting end to what seems like an eternity.