Tattooed and sober(not by choice)-beat but not beaten
I watch the sun rise through dusty window
smoking stolen cigarettes, thinking of her
the tea steeps in the coffee pot, out of coffee
the house smells as if occupied by fifty vegetable types
sweat, sometimes urine-always smoke filled even while sleeping
four unemployed alcoholics, not one overĘ 24
life revolves 'round beer-pot-music-HBO-girls, of course
I can't think straight, never could
Fear, maybe the clearness of reality...
scares the shit out of us-you & me
beauty seen only through distorted eyes
translucent and milky, high-drunken eyes
eyes like van Gogh's, swirled light and madness 
I see beauty only through her
she controls my sight and maddens me

the light is perched on the rooftops
bright-silly-silhouettes of trees and traffic
It's 6:39 August something 
the streets are wet with last nights rain
oil rises & drifts rainbows down little gutter river
   HA! You should see this place, beer bottles-bongs-boiled peanut shells-
cancerous cotton butts in glass trays-books of matches and prose
every morning swept away
every night returns the same or worse
my eyes are heavy
the sky is blue now
the darkness defeated by the sun
(Del sol)& its water molecules(newly discovered)
the street lights extinguish themselves

Lithe, such an ugly word
graceful, supple...not enough
something sensual is needed
Mr. Roget will help, I do believe
the Teamsters are striking
we have to deliver our own parcels
the Med. flies are on the run-so am I
from the cops-despair-my own conscious & subconscious
from her face-her-towards her-I'm not sure
the sun makes it all too clear

august '97

David Allen