Let Them Eat Cake

I sat, tonight, listening to Wilco, and, to Nick Cave,
in the neighborhood bar, called,
"The District"...
drank, one too many glasses,
of what some, would call,

"bad" wine...

Saw a curly headed boy, playing darts...
and, thought, of one Cuban man,
whom, I have never met,
yet, who, I love the words,
that pour, pouting, shouting, reeling, reveling,
out of fingertips...
in French Nursery Bleu.

I danced with Tiffany...
the girl clown...
Breasts...
such a milk filled thing...
Danced, outside, into the pouring rain...
Hearing, "The Sisters Of Mercy"...
still on the sidewalk...

I will remember the handlebarred mustache
of the ever lonely man.

Committed to sin.
Committed to what he thought was right.
Committed Sin.

the floods, of monsoons,
which I love, and live for...
the rain.

I couldn't get into the small apartment,
without wading.

My little slippers, are all mashed.

I will lay them, on the floor, beside the kitchen sink,
to re~shape themselves...
Beside, the silk, of covering, of tiny parrots.

Much, like we do, to our souls, each time,
we are caught,
inside the downpour.

Spending commas, like they're free...