fred

I've been fading lately. It happens -- every day, every where, always.

I'm walking backwards in the gutter in slow motion.
I'm doing a soft shuffle in the leaves and garbage.
I'm singing "doot-doot doo... doobee-doobee" .

Ninety five more dollars and we make it back to my Aunt Grelda's ancient mayan temple.
The grimey manicure. The crumpled, empty cup. Life.
Three dimes, a quarter and twelve pennies.
A dead stinkbug, nine tic-tacs and a cigarette butt.

I'm looking back on blue lighting, echoes across the drunken neighbors pool.
Thoughts reverberating underwater.

I'm waiting for my fireball, my lifeline artillery detonation.
That'll wake me up. Then the band-aid comes off.
My black and orange incineration bath time. I love that shit.
Life affirming like a sock in the gut.

I'm thinking of freedom.
Freedom is telling everyone that bugs you to fuck off.
Freedom is throat cancer.