Sonofabitch

When you get up the courage
The liquid courage
Enough
To find something to write with
And just write…
It’ll be 1.24 in the a.m. and you won’t fucking believe it
Why?

Because it couldn’t be that late even if it is that late
The morning will break over the silver city
The silvery shadowy city that is nothing but a big
Countless endless zero number of ideas

Exactly what I want
What I love
What I want
How the trick is turned

Good things continue to happen
So long as you ride along the electric rail
That conduit between land masses
Toward the infinite well of experience
So long as you don’t piss your pants
You’re okay
Even up
It’s all right
Almost everybody is as drunk as you are
And towards that end
You make the best of the bad situation
As ridiculous as the overheard conversation
The little fragmentary foolishness that goes to make up someone else’s life…

Yes!
That little part that is your life and that anyone else’s
This life you write down so terribly drunk.
Sonofabitch.

End.rev2 31 may 2010, 8.52 p.m., Brooklyn
©David Mark Speer