THE LOST TAPES Vol. 5


   The big tittied lady
   I see everyday
   Got twenty years older
   This last holiday 

***

   Now that girl comes to mind.
   The one with the long, black pants.
   Only the longest and blackest of pants
   To fit the tallest and prettiest of girls.

***

   A punk meet-up in front of the mall.
   Man, how I miss being a child! 

***

   — Your books arrived, Anastasia.
   — Thank you, good sir. How much do I owe you?
   — Half-a-dozen lollipops and a kissy on the cheeky. 

***

   Thug life,
   Drug dealers and gang bangers.
   The sound of a cartoon coming from the house
   The banging sound of a fist hitting the door.
   Window open, curtains floating in the wind.

***

   Pungent smell of tuna and goat cheese
   Dry texture of old bread
   Sweet smell of wine
   Last dinner 

   The omen of the rain outside
   His life like a puddle the devil jumped in 

***

   spirit bonding
   touching hands
   zen music
   10 kilos of paper to get through
   I love my job 

***

   Box-duck-woman,
   Best teacher in town.
   Would you believe
   She has a degree in giving head?

***

   “Why did you tell me to answer the phone?”
   “Why not?”
   “Because I’m not your secretary. You should treat me with respect.”
   “Who’s eating you today, eh, Jonas?”
   “Your mom, that filthy slut.”
   “Like mother, like daughter.”
   “I won’t answer it. You can do it if you want.”
   “This office is in both our names and I’m too busy not giving a fuck.”
   “Good luck getting fired, then, stupid.”
   “Good luck convincing the big man that it was my fault. I’m his bestie.”
   “Fuck you.”
   “I love you too, Jonas. Let’s get married.”
   “You go to hell and you die.”
   The phone stops.
   “Who will get the next call? 1,2,3, not it!”
   “I hope you burn.”
   “Let’s get out of here and grab a few drinks.”

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Untitled 04

Hi Hello How are you feeling today? Not much. What about you? I’m here. Yes, you are. Yep. I am. Why are you here? Do I need a reason? (How does one fill the silence that follows?) ***    I remember that afternoon. That strange afternoon when you told me to shut up, to not be a bitch, and I was too overwhelmed by my own feelings to see that you were crying too. To be fair, you were doing the dishes, I could only see your back every time I opened my eyes, through the blurry haze of painful tears. The sweat got into my eyes, and you know how it hurts when you just finish a coat of sunscreen and sweat get into your eyes, right? Double-pain, mourn on the necrotic-narcotic, you knew my friend had died just last night. I know you know that ‘cause he was your friend too. You got his cool Merzbow collection, and said it’s ours, you said I could take the first run 1996 Pulse Demon used CD with me after we listened to it together. You know how to cheer me up, how to make me smile t...
Read more

home at last

   We arrive, finally, at the building’s front door. Out of the car and barely able to stay on my feet I sit on the sidewalk, back to the wall, waiting for Priscilla to find the keys amongst the mess in her backpack.     “You know what just came to mind?” I ask.     “That you are way too hungry to be spending this much time looking for keys and we should just crash at the dumpster tonight for christ’s sake? Maybe order some pizza?” She replied, clearly fed up to give a shit but doing her best not to break my heart.    But I was too numb to care, and responded,     “No, I was thinking about Bovary. Did you feed her this week?”     “Of course I did, what? If I didn’t papa would come back to life and beat my ass. He loves these fucking cats more than me.”     She finds the keys after a while, but not before the manager comes down to check what was going on and open the door for us.      Today was one ...
Read more

an "ode" to all my friends

old friends everywhere, waves, nods, ‘mornings to sit down at the empty café and hear the latest gossip or even feel the sweat pooling on my back for I still insist in wearing these heavy clothes even mid-summer this time sat on one of my benches, in one of my parks looking at all the city pricks passing by at all the traffic outside the gate at all the gray in this world wild concrete world, house to all that’s modern, to all that’s me even me not being all that modern a den made to fit me like a buff man’s pinky ring and also all of my friends, mineral, vegetal, animal like that big rock you find driving out of town for a bit or the pothead homeless that knows my name, rocking a 100$ bong or even, and would you look at that, the handful of people with an active role in my life chatters, lovers, friends and foes the kids, the teens, the adults, the olds a cheer from the poor homeless at the shelter a group hug from the children at the orphanage a couple handshakes and smiles at the nu...
Read more