these nighttimes come and San Andreas is a radial glow that gunshots crack like
easy plate glass.
baby, I think I should take myself more seriously.
i think these kind of thoughts when I’m up here:
that I don’t want to end up like my father,
that that’s the deal with the drug trade, isn’t it, it attracts the wrong kind of character?
I didn’t dream I’d spend my Saturdays
snorting Methoxetamine with my sister-in-law.
I didn’t dream I would be thumbing my way up Grapeseed Main
with a plastic suitcase.
But it’s true you’ve followed me through all the motels, blind as a
mouse, blind as my black aviators.
At night I sip an ice cold Sprunk
and I close my eyes and remember:
the Jelly Palms
the Fishtail Palms
the parking lots
how far away they are
I see the Hawaiian patterns of your pants, the
bubblegum sizzle of your heart.
Our true romance is baked
into the hillside with a
fast car and a chance
I bet every bit of us could be
My father used to line up Piβwassers on the wall of an empty lot like they were Easter
eggs and shoot them off
when I left school I shouted have a nice life you pathetic psychopath!
I went to the city to make real money.
Lately I’ve given up bending the ears
of my customers
and a prostitute:
it hardly seems worth my time.
But they all admit my breasts look excellent on billboards
my lollipop goes on forever.
Lately I’ve wanted to meet some real gamers (except most of them are pricks):
when I speak to them I’m nervous, pulling awkwardly at my
hotpants, watching the turquoise tank in reception, its
swirls of glowlight tetra fish.
It’s nice to get out of town. I could wrap my voluptuous mouth
around this mountain,
suck the fir trees out…
I could lay my tongue against
I don’t think anyone really understands my motivations.
But the thing that gets me about Brick Kid is not just that he thinks he’s it
but just how swiftly his promises fizzle: he thinks
he’s in love with freedom
he operates better
an LSPD scanner taped
to his dash.
by alice seville
first published in the literateur.