no excuses, lets play

left-handed piano player
silly long haired boy
and youve got " I spy"
fingers from south america
and it goes on and on my friends
ill take the grave yard shift
youll be awake for me, wont you?

I'm allergic
to your indifference
make out room
makes me remember
that valentines day, amy and i wear
trench coats, no pants on the train
i didnt call you, i was preoccupied
with the lesbians with braces
in the bathroom


ill try not to be such a wimp
life isnt optional, tonight
well carry you home
no words no drama lets play
be
fahrenheit ambassadors
"that girl is on fire" theyll say

on friday night
i swear you looked at me wishing
i could be better
i almost apologized before
realizing you hadnt said a word
just shoved you up against
a liquor store window and kissed
you
which is better than an apology
anyday

twenty ten

lets get loaded and
crippled
remove limbs i only
want to use
with you
i truly do miss you
when youre not
around


its just the mayflower
and hula hoops
lets be as silly as
we forgot to be
when its raining
it seems i cant remember
it not raining, grey grey
hopelessness
we're caught in a trap


may be it was
better than we let on
more magical, sea bass and
rose, your eyes more blue than
any morning
and i fall all over myself at
the thought that
youre mine

seeing you like that made me
nostalgic, we hardly knew
each other but
ill always love
you, hustler

all that eye contact
im eternally
missing you
youre never quite
close enough

bear necessities

everything feels different
these days
like
tattooed hips, goose bumps, you
make my skin ache
in a good way
that taking your hair down
from a pony tail way
or putting on sweats
or taking off too tight shoes
way
ill play the same song
on repeat
until you get it
that it would take broken axels and
wildfires to
quit these
wagon wheels
ive got nothing but time
on my side
sundays in livermore
its a heatwave, dancing with uncle jack, el
vato, el vato, the
violinist
too many pigs in a blanket
all the old ladies wear
purple clothes and
ask, girl, whyd you stay
far away
we try not to talk about my mother
no one asks about you
no one knows
you
like i do, you say
over indian food, your
tummy rumbles all through the night
and i have nightmares, stale
dreams, wake up
on my back
and youre not there
not really, anyway

things feel so
very different now
i never know if we were going
to the same place
and now were all phone chatty
and text messagy
about some party, some warehouse, some thing
that happened in oakland somewhere
its just distance but it is everything

its just a feeling, but its different,
your writing will explode, you tell me
pulling me close, the hardest
youve held me in weeks
and it doesnt take much, i think, it
doesnt take much

featured monsters

on sunday
we gnash and fight
smoke blunts with three girls
who dont really want to
share
sarah looks like death and
olivias mouths the words
to songs she doesnt know

i feel like im dancing
like ive got something to prove
my ears numb until i pass out
dream of you as a little boy
crawling into my
lap and sleeping, i scratch
your back and neck and kiss you until
youre purring, how
terribly accurate
and prophetic our little
mosters are

let me see your teeth

im searching for violets
among snow
tiny glitter anthems
and slop buckets
that boy is no monster
youre more precious
than an heirloom
grandma marion places
ceramic santas on mantles
and we shiver and shake
hands held under hanukkah dinner table

lets move, lets live next to
a bridge with open fields
play soul music and drink
40's on a monday
that night you
fire man carried my best friend through
the streets of the mission
you were it for me

i like kissing you over
room service heat and
dirty laundry
im looking for that clove smoking girl on the hill,
remember her?
you make me want to find
her, again

im tired of the ha ha
tired of the lols
you don't remember how it felt?
cigarettes and fruit punch snapple
kurt vonnegut, long toenails arent funny
just because I adore you -
doesnt mean i dont want to laugh

I'm tired of faking it

sunday night loft party you were the
guy with the attitude
high on house
and asking for pills
it gets less complicated with time
until were all just fiddlers
on fourth street
baring our teeth

too $hort tuesday

a little "blow the whistle" and "strip down" not to mention "money maker" and thats just talking about the latest stuff, sets me right on this gray tuesday. such a different perspective than yesterday. something bout hoes and tricks, bitches and pimps really gets me moving and as $hort dawg says, you got to want it to have it.



this song reminds me of driving drunk with jose through the city. yeah, ill call him out, we used to get DOWN to this song. she sets me right.



today is much better than yesterday. i keep myself busy, positive. my boy makes me feel better and too $hort makes me feel like a thug, a hustler, they both keep me in line. remind me i CAN do this. im in a much better mind set and dancin round the apartment, ready to take on the world.

i mean, seriously, this song is so tight. i remember this coming on in clubs when it first came out and kids would go fucking ape shit. ballistic. sweaty hair, chains flying, thiz face, biiiatch, shit was crazy. makes me proud to be from the bay. makes me think im crazy to think abut leaving it...i mean, no one does hyphy like we do.

and for my final act

tonight ill be reading some new pieces at Amnesia bar http://www.amnesiathebar.com/Amnesia/Amnesia_-_Home.html on Valencia.


should be some other great readers from 826 Valencia http://www.826valencia.org/events/2009_12 and cheap delicious beers and specialty cocktails served.

i hope hope hope of all hopes to see you there.


xo gkitten