collide in a now-daily disturbing testament
on my new stoop as friends and fellow fuck-ups gather in wake.
all eating Spaghetti-Os
and drinking beer this day,
because that's all I had in the new place.
Bobby the screenprinter shows up
with his partner and a bag of blow,
thus ruining the afternoon and that evening's stand-up sets.
we all laugh at Liz
who is flashing her tits at Manhattan,
spilling beer in movie quote nonsense.
what else is new,
the blonde hack asks me.
nada, I say (but everything).
it's funny what we choose to say,
even to friends in a friendly environ,
and then I remind myself to write all this down.
I'm amazed some of us are still alive,
but it's good to be back
in something new, it's good to be back.