Re: the little one, my brother,

dar tholed ([email protected])
Tue, 12 Jan 1999 20:09:02 PST

who is almost as nutso as me now, who was Touched by
The Man a year ago (hey, don't touch me there, sicko!)
hung around the crack houses, pretending he didn't have
enough money for the stuff, pretending he wasn't watching as
obsessively as me. towards the end he drifted away
to do something useful, but came back in time to get some
of the good stuff, some of the stuff from guido, from one of the four
"who didn't fit in anywhere because they were so fat,"
and he made and gurgling sound, like he was choking on the bile of
my poetry, as teenagers will do when they're faced with something less
than the spice girls' level of brilliance, and immediately looked to see
my reaction.
i only stared at him...wondering where that horrid shirt had come from.
after all the stuff I bought at target for him...besides, sometimes you
gotta sell last year's wardrobe. Just because.

earlier on he commented, "man, you're a really bad poet," because
i was jumping up and down on my ee cummings books after hitting
The crack pipe again.
my favorite era was coming up: long arms, bare head,
exposed eyes, dancing chest. glory, glory pass the pizza
that is NOT why i love incredibly hard drugs.
that just helps.

took me a while, like most things involving intelligence, but I saw it,
finally because there you were, with a pickax, at my living room window.
thanks.

after _poetry class_,
dar

********************************************************
"Little Johnny Smith from down the street...you always remember your
first."
                                            Me (1998)

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