Dancing Like My Mother

You wake in the country, more specifically in a summer house on a golf course.
You spend the day getting deeply drunk by a pool, in tiny shorts, despite the cool air and dimmed sun.

At night you do drugs in the expansive kitchen while others cook, and you wonder
why you are doing drugs. you do the drugs. you drink water. you eat steak and pork, and roasted
vegetables.

You sit in front of the internet for an hour. Unable to move from the blue glowing screen, unwanting.


before bed you see a friend, or an aquaintance, has amateur porn up on the internet.
You realize this as the raccoons scavenge the garbage of roasted vegetables and your friend throws ice cubes at them.

The amateur porn loosens you, not unhinges but perhaps loosens the screws of the hinges, you are not rattled but could be.
This, you think, is exactly where I want to be.

Expensive sheets. No longer drunk. No longer high. No longer full. Just expensive sheets and sleep just licking at your neck.

Posted by Johnny at 12:32 PM | Permalink | Comments

Your teeth will fall out. Or crumble. Not like chalk crumbles or cheese crumbles. Slower.
It seems like there's sand in your salad but that's just the grit of your coming apart, bit by bit, tiny pearlescent flakes.
This will also come on the same day that you realize you have double booked your whole weekend.

this day is today.

Posted by Johnny at 5:46 PM | Permalink | Comments

it feels like i've swallowed a bone.
Not pointy fish spines, but the shoulder blade of a chicken, or turkey.
Something bigger.
Every time i swallow my throat presses up against it.
This is totally inconvenient.

The scent of the inside of Walgreens or Rite Aid at 9am in early June, when the sun seems to be just up, and the fog has burned almost right off, can sometimes just break a heart into pieces, and wet eyes with tears.

Posted by Johnny at 11:04 AM | Permalink | Comments