two
checks. “Jesus,” I’d say, “two checks.”
and they were
angry.
some of them were working
two jobs.
the worst day
it was raining very hard,
I didn’t have a raincoat so
I put on a very old coat I hadn’t worn for
months and
I walked in a little late
while they were working.
I looked in the coat for some
cigarettes
and found a 5 dollar bill
in the side pocket:
“hey, look,” I said, “I just found a 5 dollar
bill I didn’t know I had, that’s
funny.”
“hey, man, knock off the
shit!”
“no, no, I’m serious , really, I remember
wearing this coat when
I got drunk at the
bars. I’ve been rolled too often,
I’ve got this fear…I take money out of
my wallet and hide it all
over me.”
“sit down and get to
work.”
I reached into an inside pocket:
“hey, look, here’s a TWENTY! God, here’s a
TWENTY I never knew I
had! I’m
RICH!”
“you’re not funny, son of
a bitch…”
“hey, my God, here’s ANOTHER
twenty! too much, too too
much…I knew I didn’t spend all that
money that night. I thought I’d been
rolled again…”
I kept searching the
coat. “hey! here’s a ten and
here’s a fiver! my God…”
“listen, I’m telling you to sit down
and shut up …”
“my God, I’m RICH…I don’t even need
this job…”
“man, sit down …”
I found another ten after I sat down
but I didn’t say
anything.
I could feel waves of hatred and
I was confused,
they believed I had
plotted the whole thing
just to make them
feel bad. I didn’t want
to. people who live on hot dogs and
potato chips for
3 days before payday
feel bad
enough.
I sat down
leaned forward and
began to go to
work.
outside
it continued to
rain.
sitting in a sandwich joint
my daughter is most
glorious.
we are eating a takeout
snack in my car
in Santa Monica.
I say, “hey, kid,
my life has been
good, so good.”
she looks at me.
I put my head down
on the steering wheel,
shudder, then I
kick the door open,
put on a
mock-puke.
I straighten up.
she laughs
biting into her
sandwich.
I pick up four
french fries
put them into my mouth,
chew them.
it’s 5:30 p.m.
and the cars run up
and down past us.
I sneak a look:
we’ve got all the
luck we need:
her eyes are brilliant with the
remainder of the
day, and she’s
grinning.
doom and siesta time
my friend is worried about dying
he lives in Frisco
I live in L.A.
he goes to the gym and
works with the iron and hits
the big bag.
old age diminishes him.
he can’t drink because of
his liver.
he can do
50 pushups.
he writes me
letters
telling me
that I’m the only one
who listens to him.
sure, Hal, I answer him
on a postcard.
but I don’t want to pay
all those gym fees.
I go to bed
with a liverwurst and
onion sandwich at
one p.m.
after I eat I
nap
with the helicopters
and vultures
circling over my
sagging mattress.
as crazy as I ever was
drunk and writing poems
at 3 a.m.
what counts now
is one more
tight
pussy
before the light
tilts out
drunk and writing poems
at 3:15 a.m.
some people tell me that I’m
famous.
what am I doing alone
drunk and writing poems at
3:18 a.m.?
I’m as crazy as I ever was
they don’t understand
that I haven’t stopped hanging out of 4th floor
windows by my heels—
I still do
right now
sitting here
writing this down
I am hanging by my heels
floors up:
68, 72, 101,
the feeling is the
same:
relentless
unheroic and
necessary
sitting here
drunk and writing poems
at 3:24 a.m.
sex
I am driving down Wilton Avenue
when this girl of about 15
dressed in tight blue jeans
that grip her behind like two hands
steps out in front of my car
I stop to let her cross the street
and as I watch her contours waving
she looks directly through my windshield
at me
with purple eyes
and