Burning in Water, Drowing in Flame (13 page)

here they come

these guys

grey truck

radio playing

they are in a hurry

it’s quite exciting:

shirt open

bellies hanging out

they run out the trash bins

roll them out to the fork lift

and then the truck grinds it upward

with far too much sound…

they had to fill out application forms

to get these jobs

they are paying for homes and

drive late model cars

they get drunk on Saturday night

now in the Los Angeles sunshine

they run back and forth with their trash bins

all that trash goes somewhere

and they shout to each other

then they are all up in the truck

driving west toward the sea

none of them know

that I am alive

REX DISPOSAL CO.

the elephants are caked with mud and tired

and the rhinos don’t move

the zebras are stupid dead stems

and the lions don’t roar

the lions don’t care

the vultures are overfed

the crocodiles don’t move

and there was a strange type of monkey,

I forget the name,

he was on a shelf up there, this male,

he topped the female and worked one off,

finished,

fell on his back and grinned,

and I said to my girlfriend,

let’s go, at last something’s happened.

back at my place we talked about it.

the zoo is a very sad place, I said,

taking my clothes off.

only those 2 monkeys seemed happy, she said,

getting out of her

clothes.

did you see that look on the male monkey’s face?

I asked.

you look just like that afterwards, she

said.

later in the mirror I saw

a strange type of monkey. and

wondered about the giraffes and the

rhinos, and the elephants, especially the

elephants.

we’ll have to go to the zoo

again.

I went to this place to see a movie

on tv

Alexander the Great,

and here come the armies

ta ta ta

horses, spears, knives, swords, shields,

men falling…

then turn to a roller derby—

here’s a girl strangling another,

then back to Alexander—

a guy jumps out and assassinates Alex’s father,

Alex kills the guy, Alex is king,

back to the roller derby—

a man is down across the track and another man rams his head

with his skates—

and here come the armies

they appear to be fighting in a cave, there’s smoke and

flame, swords,

men falling—

the Thunderbirds are behind,

one girl dives under another girl’s ass,

throws her into the rail—

Alexander stands there listening to a guy who is holding

a glass of wine in his hand, and this boy is really telling

Alex wherehow, you know, and he turns his back to walk away

and Alex spears him—

the Thunderbirds are behind, they send out

Big John—

ta ta ta, here come the armies

they are splashing through water

through forests, they are going to get it

all

ta ta ta—

Big John didn’t make it,

the girls are out again now—

Alexander is dying

Alexander the Great is dying

and they pass by his pallet in the open

he is dressed in fancy black garb and looks like

Richard Burton

the boys have their helmets off as they pass

and there’s Alex’s love by the pallet, and then

Alex begins to go, some men rush up,

one asks, Alex, who do you turn the rule over to?

who will rule now?

they wait.

he says, the strongest, and he dies

we are shown the clouds, the heavens,

way up there, and—

the Thunderbirds pull it out

in the last 12 seconds, they win it

112 to 110,

the crowd is consumed with Joy,

mercury bleeds into the light,

good night, sweet prince,

hail Mary,

Jesus Christ, what a

night.

no

we can’t we can’t win it

I’ve decided we can’t win it

just for a while we thought we could

but that was just for a while

now we know we can’t win it

we can’t stand still and win it

or run and win it

or do right and win it

or do wrong and win it

somebody else is going to win it

that’s why somebody else is there and

we are here

it is terrible to be defeated

in what seems to count

it will happen

to accept it is impossible

to know it is more important

than doves or switchbrakes or

love.

she was hot, she was so hot

I didn’t want anybody else to have her,

and if I didn’t get home on time

she’d be gone, and I couldn’t bear that—

I’d go mad…

it was foolish I know, childish,

but I was caught in it, I was caught.

I delivered all the mail

and then Henderson put me on the night pickup run

in an old army truck,

the damn thing began to heat halfway through the run

and the night went on

me thinking about my hot Miriam

and jumping in and out of the truck

filling mailsacks

the engine continuing to heat up

the temperature needle was at the top

HOT HOT

like Miriam.

I leaped in and out

3 more pickups and into the station

I’d be, my car

waiting to get me to Miriam who sat on my blue couch

with scotch on the rocks

crossing her legs and swinging her ankles

like she did,

2 more stops…

the truck stalled at a traffic light, it was hell

kicking it over

again…

I had to be home by 8, 8 was the deadline for Miriam.

I made the last pickup and the truck stalled at a signal

1/2 block from the station…

it wouldn’t start, it couldn’t start…

I locked the doors, pulled the key and ran down to the

station…

I threw the keys down…. signed out…

your god damned truck is stalled at the signal,

I shouted,

Pico and Western…

…I ran down the hall, put the key into the door,

opened it…. her drinking glass was there, and a note:

sun of a bitch:

I wated until 5 after ate

you don’t love me

you sun of a bitch

somebody will love me

I been wateing all day

   
Miriam

I poured a drink and let the water run into the tub

there were 5,000 bars in town

and I’d make 25 of them

looking for Miriam

her purple teddy bear held the note

as he leaned against a pillow

I gave the bear a drink, myself a drink

and got into the hot

water.

love, he said, gas

kiss me off

kiss my lips

kiss my hair

my fingers

my eyes my brain

make me forget

love, he said, gas

he had a room on the 3rd floor,

rejected by a dozen women

35 editors

and half a dozen hiring agencies,

now I’m not saying he was any

good

he turned on all the jets

without lighting them

and went to bed

some hours later a guy on his

way to room 309

lit a cigar in the

hall

and a sofa flew out the window

one wall shivered down like wet sand

a purple flame waved 40 feet high in the air

the guy in bed

didn’t know or care

but I’d have to say

he was pretty good

that day.

I used to know a dutchman in a Philly bar

he’d take 3 raw eggs in his beer,

71, still

working,

strong,

and there I sat down from him

4 or 5 barstools away

in my 20’s

frightened

suicidal

unloved.

well, you know, sorrows beget

sorrows

burn and burn and burn and burn,

then something else takes

place.

I’m not saying it’s as good

but it’s certainly

more comfortable,

and often nights now

I think of that old dutchman—

I can look back on almost

a lifetime—

yet still remember him there

my master, then and

now.

murdered in the alleys of the land

frost-bitten against flagpoles

pawned by females

educated in the dark for the dark

vomiting into plugged toilets

in rented rooms full of roaches and mice

no wonder we seldom sing

day or noon or night

the useless wars

the useless years

the useless loves

and they ask us,

why do you drink so much?

well, I suppose the days were made

to be wasted

the years and the loves were made

to be wasted.

we can’t cry, and it helps to laugh—

it’s like letting out

dreams, ideals,

poisons

don’t ask us to sing,

laughing is singing to us,

you see, it was a terrible joke

Christ should have laughed on the cross,

it would have petrified his killers

now there are more killers than ever

and I write poems for them.

out of the arms of one love

and into the arms of another

I have been saved from dying on the cross

by a lady who smokes pot

writes songs and stories,

and is much kinder than the last,

much much kinder,

and the sex is just as good or better.

it isn’t pleasant to be put on the cross and left there,

it is much more pleasant to forget a love which didn’t

work

as all love

finally

doesn’t work…

it is much more pleasant to make love

along the shore in Del Mar

in room 42, and afterwards

sitting up in bed

drinking good wine, talking and touching

smoking

listening to the waves…

I have died too many times

believing and waiting, waiting

in a room

staring at a cracked ceiling

waiting for the phone, a letter, a knock, a sound…

going wild inside

while she danced with strangers in nightclubs…

out of the arms of one love

and into the arms of another

it’s not pleasant to die on the cross,

it’s much more pleasant to hear your name whispered in

the dark.