it's too hot in
side my shirt and it's
too hot inside my jacket.
I have a ache that's not
hammers inside but
thousands of vulgar vodka spitting
soviet soldiers.

she's making me nervous as
she very well
shouldn't. I speak and hear
all the wrong words
coming out if my
shirt.
coming out of my
jacket.

her pretty pale skin, pale as
beautiful death. Her dirty
yellow hair, dirty as my
mind is when I see her.

it's too hot in my pants and
it's too too hot in my underwear.
I'm tired but it's not for
s l e e p
it's for slo-mo consciousness.


there's Mexicans selling crack on


the corner, I know. there's
hideous  women with gaping                                  
                 
black eyes there too. I
know.
a slightly drunk girl bounces
downstairs
and tries to open the glass
door
the wrong way.
She giggles with
embarrassment and smiles
back at me.

I smile.

this is a good night.