My Trailer Park Living Gives Me Street Cred
Last Laughs
Chapter 27
by p.l.carrico
and
art and over passes
vomiting and passionate love
cars that lasted and love that didn’t
fired and hired
passionate love and pure fear
relic trucks and distant destinations
overpasses and more overpasses
one more pill and sleep
pure fear and an insignificant obligation
vomiting and driving
something like calm and dried tears
obituaries and tired old friends who want you to grow up
growing up and becoming more insatiable
gritting teeth and a pint of wine before work
awaking sober and in love
worrying where she is and being alone
pure fear and growing up
old drunks and young drunks
my dog’s love for me and my lack of confidence
my desire to write and not feel manic
if we don’t grow older together
we won’t grow older together
and I am
only as long we are dying
slowly
together.
you and me.
Leaving
weathers turning
warm breeze
look at me baby
i’m down on my knees
I got needs
I got needs
say i’ll get used
this town is a noose
look at me baby
turn us loose
i got needs
i got needs
praying at work
there's blood on my knees
none on my shirt
that i can see
drinking on breaks
fights heart ache
i’ll keep it together
for our sake
its like a disease
its like a disease
but we gatta leave
like autumn sees
life leaves
Trite thought
interconnected global expansion
e-mail and digital voice
text messages and myspace
and
tin cans connected with string
it’s the same damn thing
objects held by lonely people.
p.s
horned rimmed glasses intellectuals
mouths agape
room for my testicles
Tomorrow
I see myself in it all now
i see myself in the quiet woman dominated man
in line at McDonalds
and
In that man’s suit
and maybe
calling you at dinner time about your obligations to community art.
Because people do it
and I can too.
Honestly
death was
not living
comfortably
and no one
no one
lives comfortably, Dad.
Osprey move seasonally
and reasonably
we will too.
I will run
and run
with you Lauren
as long as we have to.
Machine
My wife sees me as a machine.
My joints, moods and malfunctions
are regulated
with beer
tummy rubs
and food fuel.
I hope to grow on her
and when she starts me up in the morning
years and years from now
she says, ‘come on old boy.’
My wife sees me as a horse.
My size makes me fragile
and my silence speaks volumes
to her as she leeds me
out of the house to work.
And my animal qualities
are accepted
and I am happy to be led.
My wife sees me as a stranger
lingering in a parking lot.
Doing the odd things that come to his feral mind
making him dangerous
until familiarity has her beckon him
into her warm car.
My wife sees me as a writer
and that’s the best accolade I have ever had.
Bed Monsters
the weight of light
and my filthy mouth
and every methodical second
reminded me
never to sleep alone again.
if you die before me
and I am a shaking old man
with an open mouth
staring at the ointments on isle four
i will be sadder than the Pacific Ocean.
you make me want to own a gun
so I can point it at the world
and you can touch me
and tell me
to calm down.
bed monsters
good and bad
sex
tears
and living.
bed monsters
a friend of mine shot himself
in his bed,
the bullet piercing the brain
and both mattresses.
two cats
a dog
wife
erection
and me.
Scotch
She was trying to drink scotch in every bar in town
because she thought she was pregnant
and in the old buildings
built by scotch babies
i watched her transition from
glee
to horror
as she realized
she was drinking scotch in every bar in town
because she thought she was pregnant.
And some horrible irony
made us both cry
as we ate spaghetti.
And something told us
it could have
it should have
been us singing that duet
on the jute box.
Pride
I would be proud
if someone bought a book of my poems
on credit
causing them to overdraft their limit
then spiral down into an unending spiral of debt.
Then distraught
at a family dinner
when questioned on their indigence
this person were to quietly excuse themselves
from the overflowing table
and went to the bathroom and
held their mothers pain medication in their hands
ran the water in the sink
hesitated
then
took four
instead of thirty
and finished their meal with a
‘who gives a fuck’
attitude.
Underwear dirty menstrual blood (the big pay back)
I am calling you from
your quiet cup of coffee
with your traitor lover.
Stand
walk to the poetry isle
and randomly select this book.
Open to this page
find me speaking directly to you.
I agree. Life goes on and on and on and on.
Finish your cup of coffee with your traitor lover
and when she goes to work
wear her dirty underwear and play James Brown
too loud.
When she comes home
to make you feel alone
you’ll have your new crazy friend
in your head
to confide with.
I encourage you all
to masturbate at work.
Then and only then
is when
cracks in the facade of sanity
will form.
Those cracks are best we can do.
Promise me...
When I was five
I said something insightful
as only a child can.
A stranger on the subway
smelling of tobacco and seventy years
hoisted me in the air and lied to me.
He promised a future of creativity
fueled by the genius of children’s eyes.
I have long since vomited out all my potential
and live as a cheap lawn ornament
in America.
I swear to you
in every art gallery
painters studio
and writers cafe
there is no brilliant glimmer.
And their children argue amongst each other in shrill tones
(and i steal their adderol and momys adavan).
That man on the subway
is now dust.
I lied to her
‘There’s something different here’
she said stumbling into my bar.
‘You are here now,’
I said pouring vile liquor.
She drilled my brain with eyes of pain,
to avoid her gaze
I merely stared at her breasts.
I lied to her
when I was an alcoholic.
I implied I would slowly die with her.
‘I wish I could take you far away,’
I said to her breasts.
Love Moments
Cackling and farting
in the neon beer isle
at Safeway
she breaks a bottle on the floor.
As we dash away I realize
no where in my soul
screams to die
anymore.
broken divorcees
drink before me at the bar
like cheap puppets
putting on a vile show
and I cannot leave.
my tip jar fills for you
and I don’t get fired another day.
and
nowhere in my soul
screams to die
anymore.
you don’t wish I were
writing a book
rather watching TV
or tracking down some
fun pills.
I won forty dollars gambling
enough money for you
to spend frivolously
like we made good money.
and
nowhere in my soul
screams to die
anymore.
Entry Level Position at 26
An entry level position
I am applying for
has applicants a decade younger than I
mouthing the words silently
on their applications.
We train together,
one girl stares out the window
as the manager rambles.
My intuition
and wet eyed stoicism
intrigue a girl with father issues
as we fold napkins.
She has young hands and cheap rings.
A question is asked
I know the answer to
yet I abstain.
A young man answers this question
and something in him clicks.
He knows the work world
is his.
I wonder if anyone can see me shake.
As I sit at The Bridge Tender Bar,
boisterous youth pass by
the window.
One screams and pushes another
they laugh and continue down the street.
An old lady
stops smoking
to nod.
‘Thank god
I’m not sixteen.’
The difference between me
the children
and the old woman
is little.
And I too nod.
Last Laughs
“He who laughs last didn’t get it.”
-Rodney Dangerfield
Can I get you another?
(I am asking myself this)
exploring the limits of my body and mind
or doing enough drugs to balance martinis on a tray
high high high above us all to our amazement!
One one thing I can agree with the baby boom,
(especially the blown up baby boom)
vicodin, oxycontin and a dab of xanax
is better than any promotion.
I have shit my pants
and in it,
there is romance.
After work once while one the way to the grocery store
a man told me the world was to end Easter 2007
which I realize now is my birthday.
He then asked me for a dollar.
Who has the time to read
and on what are our knowing glances based?
I feel like the only one grinning
at the supermarket.
I feel like the only one grinning,
sometimes.
Last night at work a waitress dropped a full tray
of steaks
seafood
and lobster...
salads, bread
on the starving floor. The whole restaurant stopped to stare,
then God eased up the volume knob.
As I helped her clean
I felt as if we had saved those meats
from hideous teeth.
But honestly
caught like a deer in headlights,
sobriety becomes me
and I still feel stupid.
Who has time to read honesty these days?
There are several fat women with Dean Koontz books
in the back office of the hotel where I work.
They are appreciative of heaping Nacho platters we bring them
then with thick fingers
they translate
tender bar conversations
mid-life crisis martinis
and confounding appetizers
into the capitol that fuels the hotel and restaurant.
These women are titans
and ought not be made light of.
Bruegel
I know well
beer, feasts and loose women.
I know too the joy
of painting it all.
So you are beautiful,
I mean that.
Not when you arrive,
but when you leave
flustered angry and older.
Fuck it,
We made
and now we can go home (alone).
When it’s all said and done
(and it is, and it is)
I think I can die happy
knowing
rigamortis
causes an erection.
Chapter 27
by p.l.carrico
and
art and over passes
vomiting and passionate love
cars that lasted and love that didn’t
fired and hired
passionate love and pure fear
relic trucks and distant destinations
overpasses and more overpasses
one more pill and sleep
pure fear and an insignificant obligation
vomiting and driving
something like calm and dried tears
obituaries and tired old friends who want you to grow up
growing up and becoming more insatiable
gritting teeth and a pint of wine before work
awaking sober and in love
worrying where she is and being alone
pure fear and growing up
old drunks and young drunks
my dog’s love for me and my lack of confidence
my desire to write and not feel manic
if we don’t grow older together
we won’t grow older together
and I am
only as long we are dying
slowly
together.
you and me.
Leaving
weathers turning
warm breeze
look at me baby
i’m down on my knees
I got needs
I got needs
say i’ll get used
this town is a noose
look at me baby
turn us loose
i got needs
i got needs
praying at work
there's blood on my knees
none on my shirt
that i can see
drinking on breaks
fights heart ache
i’ll keep it together
for our sake
its like a disease
its like a disease
but we gatta leave
like autumn sees
life leaves
Trite thought
interconnected global expansion
e-mail and digital voice
text messages and myspace
and
tin cans connected with string
it’s the same damn thing
objects held by lonely people.
p.s
horned rimmed glasses intellectuals
mouths agape
room for my testicles
Tomorrow
I see myself in it all now
i see myself in the quiet woman dominated man
in line at McDonalds
and
In that man’s suit
and maybe
calling you at dinner time about your obligations to community art.
Because people do it
and I can too.
Honestly
death was
not living
comfortably
and no one
no one
lives comfortably, Dad.
Osprey move seasonally
and reasonably
we will too.
I will run
and run
with you Lauren
as long as we have to.
Machine
My wife sees me as a machine.
My joints, moods and malfunctions
are regulated
with beer
tummy rubs
and food fuel.
I hope to grow on her
and when she starts me up in the morning
years and years from now
she says, ‘come on old boy.’
My wife sees me as a horse.
My size makes me fragile
and my silence speaks volumes
to her as she leeds me
out of the house to work.
And my animal qualities
are accepted
and I am happy to be led.
My wife sees me as a stranger
lingering in a parking lot.
Doing the odd things that come to his feral mind
making him dangerous
until familiarity has her beckon him
into her warm car.
My wife sees me as a writer
and that’s the best accolade I have ever had.
Bed Monsters
the weight of light
and my filthy mouth
and every methodical second
reminded me
never to sleep alone again.
if you die before me
and I am a shaking old man
with an open mouth
staring at the ointments on isle four
i will be sadder than the Pacific Ocean.
you make me want to own a gun
so I can point it at the world
and you can touch me
and tell me
to calm down.
bed monsters
good and bad
sex
tears
and living.
bed monsters
a friend of mine shot himself
in his bed,
the bullet piercing the brain
and both mattresses.
two cats
a dog
wife
erection
and me.
Scotch
She was trying to drink scotch in every bar in town
because she thought she was pregnant
and in the old buildings
built by scotch babies
i watched her transition from
glee
to horror
as she realized
she was drinking scotch in every bar in town
because she thought she was pregnant.
And some horrible irony
made us both cry
as we ate spaghetti.
And something told us
it could have
it should have
been us singing that duet
on the jute box.
Pride
I would be proud
if someone bought a book of my poems
on credit
causing them to overdraft their limit
then spiral down into an unending spiral of debt.
Then distraught
at a family dinner
when questioned on their indigence
this person were to quietly excuse themselves
from the overflowing table
and went to the bathroom and
held their mothers pain medication in their hands
ran the water in the sink
hesitated
then
took four
instead of thirty
and finished their meal with a
‘who gives a fuck’
attitude.
Underwear dirty menstrual blood (the big pay back)
I am calling you from
your quiet cup of coffee
with your traitor lover.
Stand
walk to the poetry isle
and randomly select this book.
Open to this page
find me speaking directly to you.
I agree. Life goes on and on and on and on.
Finish your cup of coffee with your traitor lover
and when she goes to work
wear her dirty underwear and play James Brown
too loud.
When she comes home
to make you feel alone
you’ll have your new crazy friend
in your head
to confide with.
I encourage you all
to masturbate at work.
Then and only then
is when
cracks in the facade of sanity
will form.
Those cracks are best we can do.
Promise me...
When I was five
I said something insightful
as only a child can.
A stranger on the subway
smelling of tobacco and seventy years
hoisted me in the air and lied to me.
He promised a future of creativity
fueled by the genius of children’s eyes.
I have long since vomited out all my potential
and live as a cheap lawn ornament
in America.
I swear to you
in every art gallery
painters studio
and writers cafe
there is no brilliant glimmer.
And their children argue amongst each other in shrill tones
(and i steal their adderol and momys adavan).
That man on the subway
is now dust.
I lied to her
‘There’s something different here’
she said stumbling into my bar.
‘You are here now,’
I said pouring vile liquor.
She drilled my brain with eyes of pain,
to avoid her gaze
I merely stared at her breasts.
I lied to her
when I was an alcoholic.
I implied I would slowly die with her.
‘I wish I could take you far away,’
I said to her breasts.
Love Moments
Cackling and farting
in the neon beer isle
at Safeway
she breaks a bottle on the floor.
As we dash away I realize
no where in my soul
screams to die
anymore.
broken divorcees
drink before me at the bar
like cheap puppets
putting on a vile show
and I cannot leave.
my tip jar fills for you
and I don’t get fired another day.
and
nowhere in my soul
screams to die
anymore.
you don’t wish I were
writing a book
rather watching TV
or tracking down some
fun pills.
I won forty dollars gambling
enough money for you
to spend frivolously
like we made good money.
and
nowhere in my soul
screams to die
anymore.
Entry Level Position at 26
An entry level position
I am applying for
has applicants a decade younger than I
mouthing the words silently
on their applications.
We train together,
one girl stares out the window
as the manager rambles.
My intuition
and wet eyed stoicism
intrigue a girl with father issues
as we fold napkins.
She has young hands and cheap rings.
A question is asked
I know the answer to
yet I abstain.
A young man answers this question
and something in him clicks.
He knows the work world
is his.
I wonder if anyone can see me shake.
As I sit at The Bridge Tender Bar,
boisterous youth pass by
the window.
One screams and pushes another
they laugh and continue down the street.
An old lady
stops smoking
to nod.
‘Thank god
I’m not sixteen.’
The difference between me
the children
and the old woman
is little.
And I too nod.
Last Laughs
“He who laughs last didn’t get it.”
-Rodney Dangerfield
Can I get you another?
(I am asking myself this)
exploring the limits of my body and mind
or doing enough drugs to balance martinis on a tray
high high high above us all to our amazement!
One one thing I can agree with the baby boom,
(especially the blown up baby boom)
vicodin, oxycontin and a dab of xanax
is better than any promotion.
I have shit my pants
and in it,
there is romance.
After work once while one the way to the grocery store
a man told me the world was to end Easter 2007
which I realize now is my birthday.
He then asked me for a dollar.
Who has the time to read
and on what are our knowing glances based?
I feel like the only one grinning
at the supermarket.
I feel like the only one grinning,
sometimes.
Last night at work a waitress dropped a full tray
of steaks
seafood
and lobster...
salads, bread
on the starving floor. The whole restaurant stopped to stare,
then God eased up the volume knob.
As I helped her clean
I felt as if we had saved those meats
from hideous teeth.
But honestly
caught like a deer in headlights,
sobriety becomes me
and I still feel stupid.
Who has time to read honesty these days?
There are several fat women with Dean Koontz books
in the back office of the hotel where I work.
They are appreciative of heaping Nacho platters we bring them
then with thick fingers
they translate
tender bar conversations
mid-life crisis martinis
and confounding appetizers
into the capitol that fuels the hotel and restaurant.
These women are titans
and ought not be made light of.
Bruegel
I know well
beer, feasts and loose women.
I know too the joy
of painting it all.
So you are beautiful,
I mean that.
Not when you arrive,
but when you leave
flustered angry and older.
Fuck it,
We made
and now we can go home (alone).
When it’s all said and done
(and it is, and it is)
I think I can die happy
knowing
rigamortis
causes an erection.
Labels: Last Laughs
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