This was written years ago by my adopted Father Bill Marlin who died on this date 3 years ago. RIP
If I can make your
then let that be my
which I pass.
Bagels and cream cheese at the end of my street
Comical caravans drive by my feet
Stick it to man and I get stabbed in the back
Ain’t no lovin for me just quite yet
The edge of the park is a nice place to rest
Light a mouthful of grass- the fresh picked best
Share it with the children and get poked with a stick
Ain’t no lovin for me quite just yet
Light three candles at the corner Catholic Church
For the three that I love who never got the hearst
My Sunday best clothes melt a holy water scam
Ain’t no lovin for me quietly quite yet
Oh driver oh driver do drive me away
Far from this level of the story I am stuck
Where the joke has no punch line
And I don’t give a skunk
Ain’t no love for me until I am ready you
Not just quite yet
Angela was over again and we were happy for the minute. My parents were there from the dead and from the life. I haven’t seen my dead father since the last time I dreamed he was alive. He had never died in the last one. This time I knew he died and came back over and over. Sometimes I acknowledged he was back from the dead. Like this one. They were mad at me and they kept riding my ass. Angela was there and I didn’t want to say or do anything stupid so of course I did. I started screaming at my parents about all and nothing. When my father started back on me I yelled back.
“Yeah, well you’re the one that keeps coming back from the dead!” I screamed.
Angela was crying. Everything stopped. I felt so bad.
“You know I hate when you yell at your parents. You know I have problems with that.” She said.
Angela walked to my porch as if she was leaving. I kept apologizing to her and turned my head to apologize to my parents. I felt so bad my knees cracked with tears. My bones trembled with fear of loss of what I might have had if only I was a tolerant kinder person. She. She was breaking up with me and I was helpless like in those dreams when I find my self naked in the middle of a department store.
Angela and I are at an old movie theater and all is swell. Swollen you can say. I said. No kinks in the love. All smiles whilst holding hands like professional lovers that have been at this game longer than each of us has lived. I catch her catching me catching her looking at me and we laugh until we smell smoke. Someone burnt popcorn I thought. Flames came up through the floors I carried her down the charred rippled weak stairway to uncertainty. She held me tight with a magical look of “if we go down at least it’s together.” We made it just in time as the Fire People squirted. Squirted the last flame out.
Out of nowhere a white man dressed as Jimi Hendrix appears in the lobby as Angela and I are trying to leave the burnt building. It turns out to be my friend Tony and he is with Rolland and Jesse. I didn’t question why he was dressed in his garb or colored face. I accept too many things at face value (no pun intended) too much. Too many times. Like why was I with this beautiful girl as my eternal lover out of the blue pink and red?
“I wonder if I can buy the posters and movie star cut outs in the movie theater?” Rolland asked with no greetings or concern of our health or the fire.
Jesse was silent and patted us on the back with a “it’s going to be ok” vibe.
It was ok. I still had a friend and I had Angela.
I’m so grateful in my dreams.
Drag drag drag myself out of the warm covers in the freezing bedroom on a hot muggy day that I don’t don’t don’t want to face just yet. Groggy from all of the action my mind had while I was sleeping. Sleeping can be so tiring sometimes. The memories of my activities fade with each move I make out of the bed and towards the bathroom to release a night full of liquid. Groggy I stumble back in my room to try and pray to my God not yours although they may have met at some Deity convention we don’t know about. I smoke and wonder what would Jesus do if he had these habits of smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. My muzzled pounding thoughts expire to endless words spewing and I have no control. It makes no sense to be this tired and unmotivated and think so fast and too much. Even my God cannot quiet my insides.