punk theory

ran kate chopin
up my arm
late last night

the storm
inside my head
outside my window
caused the rafters to rage

i fell into a red lampshade trance

remembering his words
wall leaning
he never leaned over
to whisper
about going on tour

“Anywhere but New York. We can never go to New York.”

“Why?”

“I’ll shoot heroin and never come back…”

my eyes fell silent as my lips called a guy about booking Cleveland

he smiled

as the clash flew off the turntable dropping spanish bombs