[part of Running Away]
10/20/11 — a thursday,
“one please—san francisco—one way—thank you.” i have four hours to slay so i walk down the street to sally loo’s coffee shop in san luis obispo, or “slo” as the locals call it, where i too adopt the phonetic pronunciation, “slow” because i have a pension for juxtaposing the b and the p in opisbo. fcuk…
[part of Running Away]
10/17/11 — a monday,
morro bay floats on a cloud of fog and atop black hill i see rolling green rock in one direction and melancholy waves rocking blue in the other. they both cap white when washed and the difference between sand and dirt remains to be seen, but of course, once i climb down around the ocean and remove my shoes, bare feet make these two worlds all the different. my toes are swallowed alive in cool sand and picked clean by dying waves. in and out we go. my little piggies collect debris all the way back to someone or another’s home…
[part of Running Away]
10/16/11 — a sunday,
overnight, a curtain rod falls in a crowded los angeles apartment and nobody hears. whether or not it makes a sound is irrelevant because even if you slit the throats of every cock, the sun still rises. as do i…
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