2 Feb 2015, 2:39pm
Writing
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Mother of pearl coat

Names of wood. I don’t
remember them all
Smoky joe
Thorny branch
Acacia redwood forest
White oak, strange sycamore

Back on the coast
Dudley’s micro carried me
back home that summer
It wouldn’t go over 60
And burnt a quart of oil on the way
We listened to the chilis
And he offered me a joint

Cassette player notebook
Leaves of grass
Gaffney peach
I wanted my granddad and grandma
to pick me up
We stayed at their house for a few days
I mean Dudley too

Another time I got stuck at a
friend’s house in charlotte
I slept in his sister’s bedroom
No headphones
It was much worse than that
Parents with their child in the home
Too intimate
We had a big breakfast but I
couldn’t eat it

A day late we got up and they
dropped me off near my house
At a kmart. I stood in the auto
section listening to stereos
Were you there
On a beach in long beach
staring at sharks my parents
Beginning to come home the
interstate jobs they had noise and work
My brain couldn’t function
Sterile lights dry dusty shelves
Ugly chrome and glass
I let myself go
I walked the rest of the way

One eyed man i would later meet
at the waffle house was just
beginning his night shift job
making fiberglass insulation at the
Manville factory
I wonder if he already felt the
loss of his i
I wondered
If he would let go that easily
When his lungs a few years later
would let go

Remember you were grossed out
and couldn’t eat when you saw it

I went to write my famous novel
In the church of all saints

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