some whiskey,
two wishes,
a blowjob from my neighbor,
three songs by The Killers,
a skate slam on 3rd ave,
and stop-and-chat
with an ex-girlfriend.
Wow,
I got soul,
but this is ridiculous,
and poems are stupid,
especially these days
when nothing much matters
outside the terrible news.
At 12:01pm
it feels like the day has
lived a thousand lives,
and with all these things
that I have done,
I feel like I could die
at lunch, drowning
in a sandwich with too much mayo.