paper office

37th street and 8th avenue, shining glass doors and a small elevator, the marbly walls like inside an egg, bright, and up in the box with the guy on the phone and into the dingy blue hallway, misspellings on papers indicating a business, something with trend in the name, a small baseballbat bottleopener keyring for the thin-doored bathroom, purple soap and white soap both, cooler in there. Paper house itself was quite warm, in between buildings, but meeting Ed and he removed his black pleather shiny satinlined coat from the rolling chair and gestured I sit down. The mashup of Mary and people bowed across a plaza in prayer, a quote about how if we humans knew what eternity actually was then we'd change every part of our lives. The gentle darkhaired about my age guy in a black tshirt, balding on his crown, looking at his phone, looking at his computer. The stained handsmudges on the printer. Dust on the floor below the window, the old yellowed panasonic airconditioner, the dirty windows, seemingly soot-covered by thousands of midtown years.

treasures

what are we
if not jewels
little faceted gems, shining dully in the sunlight
  grubby precious delights
     stoned by rushes
        of water wear
            water tear
        like a tear-us-down
        like a tear-up-now
      worn at the edges
     all of the boring rivers
       and the boring earth
  were trying to wash us away
but we're
   bedazzled
      and through the skin haze
you can see our glow-worth
like old patinad coinage
    in some boring blue fountain

heartline

a man came into the coffeeshop wearing an old new orleans tigers hat
which I found a little serendipitous
he made me sell him $1 worth of bulk tea
I used the scale and a flimsy cellophane bag
and he said, Your heart line is so bright you could roast weenies on it
I asked him, What the fuck is a heart line
not in those words, exactly
and he said, Your joie de vivre
he told me, It comes out your eyes,
and your smile, especially
and oh, your rosy cheeks, too
and I was thinking, either I do have a carefree enjoyment of life,
or,
this guy is fucking dumb

I'm sorry. I guess I must really just be good at my job
or maybe
or maybe I'm just a shining lovebeacon
  pretending I'm not
I should have insisted that he give me his cap, for my new disguise


THIS GIRL IS ON FIIIIIIIIIRE

alone in a room of people

a dream in which

i had to pull you down by your beard to kiss you

i'm on my toes gasping for kissing

and your mouth is dry like sand tongue

and i scream inside, so i know i'll wake myself up

but i wake up in a small theater

and there's this avantegarde comedy play

and i'm embarassed bc i went to sleep and woke myself with screaming

it was just rude of me

i kept trying to sit on these blanketed seats that weren't mine

and in an effort to make friends, i loaded a bowl

but the others took the bowl outside to smoke without me

i dreamed there was this new interactive blog

like cutlass but with cartoon skies you could go inside of

with little animated planes lying around you

and anything could be posted

it was being updated like every 30 secs

i watched words & sentences fly past me

and of course i was overdoing it

i was doing it like once a minute,

it was becoming annoying for some of you

was it i who said sleeping is fun 

well maybe it is bc i just remembered the final part of my dream
there were bigcats on balconies
giant shining gray foxcats
so pretty
and on all of the balconies in this depressing town
now this is what i sleep for