January 7, 2010

Broken Crystal

a broken crystal glass...on my knees weeping over shards...beautiful old and gone...someone's treasure...slipped from my fingers while I cleaned it...remembered now months later...trashed and forgotten...another cigarette...another coffee...another blog going nowhere.

Dylan singing "I feel a change coming on/and the first part of the day is already gone/now what's the use of dreaming?/you got better things to do/dreams never did work for me anyway/even when they did come true..."



feet...lots of feet...broken vinyl floor green like jail...thousands of feet...old dirty sneakers and boots...men above them waiting...shouts...bitter laughter...scorn...inscrutable men from other countries...a dozen languages...90% of taxi drivers are from other lands...cold in here...cold out there...a biting wind spinning off small tornadoes on Broadway...stupid bright lights of Times Square...stupid giant television screens...stupid televisions showing stupid ads to the stupid tourists in back of the stupid taxis...stupid plays and everybody loves them...stupid cops and stupid TLC inspectors...stupid tickets stupid fines stupid traffic system...stupid economic system...stupid politicians...stupid professionals...stupid decisions...stupid choices...I was going to drive a taxi again just like that...make money...sock it away...get the fuck out of this stupid country once and for all...just like that...stupid me.



it's all wrong...you can start off on the wrong foot and never get in step...you can live a whole life and never meet your mate...you can try and try and try and try and still not get it right...you can listen to all this bullshit about living a happy life and still not find a way...you can read a million books or drive a million miles or write a million words and never learn anything or get anywhere or say anything...it's enough to make you think you were born to lose...good intentions have nothing to do with it.

headaches now...unbearable foot pain waking me...walking the cold floor to make it go away...the movement all night from accelerator to brake to accelerator to brake making my old ligaments scream...backaches...buttaches...shoulder muscle aches...hanging on by a broken fingernail...cold.

glad I didn't return to New Orleans though...that would have been a worse disaster...I wonder how many more humiliating experiences I have to experience before I'm humbled enough...part of the plan I guess...hard to figure though...the bad guys wear white hats.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

This is outrageously good writing Mike. You really should write a book.

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