1:29 a.m. - 2002-10 -22
nostalgia
I found the setlist at work on a Friday morning;
The stage was strewn with bits of confetti, a
Southpaw beer bottle cap, and a few errant riccola
Wrappers. My dad swore by those, you know.
So I was already in a bad mood.
The carpet was reasonably clean, though, and it
Didn�t take as long to set up as I had thought.
And I haven�t spoken to my father in seven years; all in all
The morning turned out to be pretty inconsequential.
The second set began with a song called
Long Beach Fantasy
I remember snippets from e-mails a year
And a half ago -I am writing this song called
Long Beach Fantasy
I think you�ll like it-
And I remember the way the ground
Felt migrant underneath my knees
Kneading bottle caps and shredded paper
-Like confetti-
Behind the shed at the crab shack.
He must have loved it, you know.
A makeshift stage; an ultimate worship
The train roars by, and I laugh, standing
My hair flyaway in the aftermath.
He thought I was -so free-
Earlier, I was praying for just that.
It�s all a matter of perspective, I guess.
Too small of a town for all these
Retired myths and legends.
Let�s be base: I sucked his cock, and he came
And I liked the way his stomach trembled beneath my hand,
Uncontrollably,
With the effort of expulsion.
That�s it.
Save your tawdry train tracks
Moon slivers and salt water breezes for
Your little girls and their bedtime stories.
Sing them a lullaby�
I guess he did.
It feels like that.
You know, I�m reading The Awakening again, and I wouldn�t
Have thought about it at all,
Save for my bookmark
Which is a setlist.
That I keep still, three months later
To remind me of what is truly inconsequential:
The cough drop in my back pocket.
