https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2021-10-14T22_33_22-07_00
Finger buried up my nose as I try and figure out what I’m doing here.
I remember my grandmother’s crooked index finger and how she would joke about giving people directions and them getting lost.
My memory seems to be slipping and things are getting jumbled that come
out of my mouth. Starting to wonder if I also have been built for
obsolescence and how much time there is left on my warranty.
The Bonfire of the Vanities has got nothing on you and maybe before it’s
too late we can cook s’mores over a Fahrenheit 451 campfire and
reminisce about all our many lost horizons.
I was grasping at straws and before I knew it I was at a Red Barn in
South Euclid ordering fried chicken knowing my goose would soon be
cooked.
Now it’s a Taco Bell and I so badly wish we could go back to the way things were.
I want to strip down to whatever my skivvies are and bask in the Raymond
Chandler sun before Robert Mitchum gets home and punishes me for
something I didn’t even do.
I’d tell you I’m at a loss for words, but I’ve used that excuse too
often the last couple of decades so I best own up to all the serial
poetry I’ve been writing before it gets crime noir dark and the lemmings
are again driven into the ocean by Walt Disney.
My spitfire poetry is not firing on all cylinders as I rub my cock and pray more than dust comes out this time around.
I was in a rooming house on Ninth Avenue in Columbus when the
cockroaches came a-calling. Thankfully the Leonard Cohen vinyl survived
the second fire.
Timothy Dewitt and I stood on the roof, drinking cheap vodka, screaming
the lyrics to “Where Are You Tonight? (Journey Through Dark Heat)” at
the top of our lungs.
That was long before Timothy lost his shit and I decided Columbus was no longer the place for me.
Now I’m back in Cleveland with a new couch and even less wherewithal than I had before.
My moral compass is suffering from ED and there’s little I can do about
it, but sharpen the pencil in my mind and pray I can keep up with the
stream of consciousness dictation spewing out like a volcano with ADHD.
Ben recently informed me that Jim Murray was dead and that made me so sad I nearly forgot why I was here and got a job.
Just kidding.
Charles Cicirella
10/14/2021
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