Thursday, December 31, 2015

mmdvii

Curtains

The toilet won’t shut up.  But
what will motivate me up and
out of bed?  It’s 3:03pm.  Erin
and I went to a backyard

filmfest out near Irving & 9th
on Friday night.  It says right
here that it was fun, but I do
not remember it.  At all.  Ex-

cept the mosquitoes.  And
purchasing repellant and
watermelon Schmirnoff Ice
with which to watch.  But

Erin’s short film I still
have yet to see.  Some-
thing didn’t go well with
the DVD player.  Later,

I met up with some flirty
friends at The Cinch.  And
then somehow wound up
at Dragon (for no more

than five minutes, though;
attempted too large an
argument on the phone...)....
Timing.  Are all nerds losers?

This time it was my fault
for certain.  The toilet still
sings like there’s no tomorrow.
I sit up in bed, its sole occupant

at my home of eleven some-odd years.


Wednesday, December 30, 2015

mmdvi

Boo Hoo!
“I believe it is a combination
of a lot of things, many of
which I am not sure of,”
is an exact quote.  Page
2,532.  Another Tuesday.
Oh, woe is me, and boo hoo!
Pick your damn self up
and get back in line!  I
want to take pictures at
an average rate.  There
is too much work in
the afternoon.  My hand
cramps as if I’m actually
writing a letter, probably
to Gary.  The sticky frogs
aren’t sticky enough.
Sure, I could complain
all week.  What is a game
I play with myself while
listening to something
that sounds happy?  Big
frown full of crocodile
tears: happy birthday,
happy Easter, and
Merry Christmas!  I
could do this until dawn.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

mmdv

NOT ABLE / UNABLE / DISABLE
It is Tuesday
and I want a
digital camera.
There is too much
work this afternoon,
I think, sipping coffee,
after a long email to
Diane, who has written
me several real letters
to which I have yet to
respond.  I don’t re-
member Fanny &
Alexander at Erin’s,
but I remember
packing the boys
up on Saturday
and stuffing the
two of them
into a big U-
haul truck.
Big state of
remorse.

Monday, December 28, 2015

mmdiv

huge dogs breathe in the hall.
                      —Mark Lamoureux


Men who are dogs.

                No.

Men who love dogs.


           ±±±


Boys who love dogs.


           ±±±


Dogs who eat boys?

                No.

Dogs who eat men.


           ±±±


        Grown-ups

        Dogs love.


        ±±±


Men who love

        Boys who love

                     Dogs

Saturday, December 26, 2015

mmdiii


Missing

Or whatever.  If you’re
only allowed this one
line?  Pick yourself up.
Recover.  Don’t eat the
poison.  There will be
others.

Tuesday, December 22, 2015

mmdii

I call upon a poem.  Who am I?

Exhibit A: drinks with Two
at Lush Lounge while Otto
is cavorting with his colleagues.

Otto is to join the two of us
(Two and myself) at Sushi
Rika in a couple of hours,

so in the meantime Two
and I, the both of us, are
being forward in our

drinking.  “That is one
choice cut,” he says, for
example, drooling

only a little bit.  And I
agree, sipping and
mmm-ing.  Who needs

a third wheel to feel
good (just because I’m
a dog doesn’t mean I

would like to have one
of my own, for example),
et cetera?  But all I see

at the moment is the
big hole in everything
I look upon.  Literally,

often, holes, gaps,
important stuff missing.
Where’d he go, for example?

“I’m not here,” I say.
“Will anyone be
joining you?” asks

Jean through a
tube sock or an
injection.  She’s

been waiting for 
all three of us at the
place that used to be
called Ginger’s Trois.

Sunday, December 20, 2015

mmdi

Pine Cone

Help!  I’m turning into a
prima donna over here!
So, of course,  I immed
iately IM Erin about it:
“What should I do?” I
ask.  It’s been a snaky w
eek, I think, as I await
her reply.  Which turns
out to be none other
than “Office gossip
not good.  Should
sanitize.”  Later,
after purchasing lub
rication (because it
helps me smile bet
ter), I’ve a date at
the Disney Museum.
I live in San Francisco,
not Los Angeles or Flo
rida or Tokyo, so I cum
pleatly change my mind
about Walt.  After such
an epiphany, what’s
there to do but take
photographs of pine
cones lying on ass
fault in the Presidio
(very nearby the
museum – it’s as if
it were impossible
to move for a while,
having learned at
the museum why I
learned how to moo
v in the first place).
Nothing whatsoever
distracts.  This fact
extends the weak
end into record pro
portions.  Even such
things as awaiting a
bus or stopping off
for Thai food on the
way home at a place
never before encou
ntered.   By anyone.