Chain Lightning

The jazz of the crackle
the hand-drawn hand turkey
in the window of the motel
the mattress is sloppy     when I check in at sunset
I’ll sleep in my clown costume
to sweat out my fever.

Send my mail here     I'll lick the postman's hand
as he slides the records in
I’ll pretend I have a deluxe
portable hi-fi.
The folksinger next door
knocks on the wood-paneled wall
gives me the crystal necklace that changes shape on my palm
invites me to play double solitaire.

The little cat drove me crazy
still I’m sad her face changed
so much as she aged
so I’m leaving this room
throwing stones in my pantaloons
to stand on the bridge of solstice and jump.

No I’m too scared to go.
No I love my hair ghost-white.
No I’m going to grow my roots out
be a deer-brown Pierrot.

Every night I cheat time
take more pills to sleep early
think about how every guy I liked
faked his own death to leave me
crank up you’re gonna make me lonesome when you go.

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