1) recalling a lost gem) Love and laughter surrounded the late grievances of our beloved aftermath. The shutters now drawn in our two-story suburban playpen. Pencil shards and comfortable contraband. Your legs remain two untidy cylinder-like circumferences, while petrified doom envelops the evening foyer. Children of uncomfortable suffrage now that daddy's gone to war. December's frozen lake arena and vast cold morning tundras spread out across homeland recreational surfaces. Diplomatic bright blue ribbons of ancient battlefields, Sunday and smiling. These township streets slumber in pensive delusion. Your soft Velcro head leaves sweat stains upon maroon pillow cushioning. Those letters of mine you currently receive and retrieve from the neighborhood mailbox are blood scribblings. They manifest nightly in my chamber. How you've grown from a promiscuous catholic school peasant into an attractive shallow trophy wench. Scarlett and burgundy, long-nylons of grim realization. Your night-red lipstick lips heave mordantly to narrow eastern wind tunnel canals.
2) introducing Daisy and the comedown king) The El-stop into center city. A vintage promised land. Moonbeams refract steel and metal shadows off filthy sewer drainpipes. Grandmother, the belligerent alcoholic octogenarian, put Grandpa through the ageless wringer two decades ago. He rests six-feet deep beneath placid cemetery rock foundations. Billboard mustangs and month-old laundry heaps in the food-stamp corner of raw-curbed basements corridors. I awake to an afternoon headache and stare into my 82' black and white television. Bottle caps and ashtray ash carpet assorted tabletops. These walls breathe in the night, wriggle in morbid daytime-imagery. I'm seeing a French girl these cumbersome days. She lives in a non-electric flat uptown, and goes by the name of Daisy. We drink cheap Italian table-wine through the crimson night, making sordid love upon soiled bedsheets. Cockroaches and bedbugs infest our livelihood. We swear angrily in momentary intervals of lustful deceit. The hepatitis c syringe, or the 7-11 rock stem, 40z.'s of Silver thunder, I remain the comedown king. Royalty of these sleaze-ridden projects. Daisy's got a couple of motherly thighs that could initiate a cold-war or two. We walk these tenement embalmed blueprints like there were no seasons or holidays or diseases.
On the city transit line down into to Spanish Harlem, we make a pit-stop at Snake's place. He owes me a .45' pistol (that operates). Daisy and I make our way to the apartment building's front stoop. Cigarette-burns and peephole prostitutes inhabit the south-side of Spanish Harlem. Snakes phones me on his minute prepaid cell, says he'll be here in a minute. Daisy and I wait in the wood-rotted vestibule. Unleashed and violently domesticated. The Super is a snot-nosed pimp named Luigi. He runs these high-rise section 8 stomp-flats
3) A night to remember) You took me in to your romantic den of womanhood. Scented oils, candles and well grooming utensils. The hearth of your heart's home. I, a broken man, pungently aromatic, and penniless. You gave me a chance to get myself together, you loved me then. I had nothing, you asked nothing of me. You even trusted me to stay at your apartment while your were at work. Alas! I can't recall the last time someone treated me the way you did!. You showed me how to open a savings account, even put forty dollars in it, (I sat back and watched interest accumulate). I kept the summer fridge stocked with cheap bottled beer that sweated from the glass neck amid noon-time endeavors. Eventually I got my own place on the west-side with a girlfriend of yours (Juanita the Huerta-Rica). I got a part-time apprenticeship with the well established plumber, Gregory "The mortician" Hendricks, he quickly took me under his wing, (tried to get me into his bedroom, I politely declined the offer). I got into crystal meth for a little while but somehow managed to maintain my job and apartment. To this day I can't get that portrait of you in your wheelchair out of my head.
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