by John Rocco
I was the only one drinking in the bar
in the middle of the day in the Bronx
and I talked to the bartender about her kid
and when she lived in Aiken, South Carolina.
I told her about seeing the Who at Shea Stadium.
The Police opened. I was drunk and in high school.
She told me she had been addicted to coke and heroin.
I told her I was feeling so crazy the last two years
Death Booze cashing me out, my Brain Casino
blazing in killer high rollers and deep drowning hookers.
We compared still pumping broken hearts on the bar,
our blood mixing with the beer and the bills.
No one came in the bar. She sat next to me on a stool.
I got up and played WHO’S NEXT on the digital jukebox.
She bought me another beer.
*John Rocco at MySpace:
- ► 2010 (221)
- SUDDENLY GONE, THE ENVELOPE OF SLIVERS OF WHAT I H...
- LOST, LOST LIKE PHOTOGRAPHS CLUTCHED AFTER DISASTE...
- in retrospect, maybe we are all Buddha’s
- there was a blanket on her eyes so I left her in t...
- Linda’s Place Again
- Poetry is my Fetus
- TWINKIE TWINKIE TWINKIE
- THE LOST ENVELOPES OF MEMENTOS
- THE LOST JEWELS, THE LOST ENVELOPE
- it’s still a good deal
- some advice for aspiring poets
- nice guy
- dialogue of faith and highway
- Moby Dick’s
- WHEN I LOSE THE ENVELOPE OF WHAT MATTERS
- drunk at the kitchen table with my grandmother
- the bum feeder
- not all women are cunts
- a dull lady with big calves
- Quicksand of That Good Woman
- MOONRISE, HERNANDEZ, NEW MEXICO 1941
- WHO’S NEXT
- that's entertainment
- no laughing matter
- THE IDIOT
- Shallow Dating Pool
- erotic asphyxiation
- Port In A Paper Bag
- Posturing Leprechaun On An Acid Trip
- The Landlord
- The Reprieve
- the doors of hell have numbers on them upside down...
- THE HOLOCAUST (3)
- THE HOLOCAUST (2)
- THE HOLOCAUST
- ▼ October (43)