Sunday, July 31, 2011
30. I BET THE HORSES:
I bet the horses I couldn't come home again - old paint peeling tired windows sagging and that decrepit old hole of a place on east 11th forever mine and sinking like slime down the sides of a mine ! outside all those Ricos sat about - the fat old mamas and the new young papas and everybody somehow holding a silent baby and the screams and catcalls from stairwells and windows only made me wonder what was going on : ice cream and frozen pineapple juice and beer and sangria and anything else thrown together was being drunk from cavernous containers from the old land the home country whatever it all was and everytime I noticed something amiss it was just that time too somebody was blessing themselves or sighting the sacred cross with their rosary and sacred holy Mary Mothers of God stuff trembling-like and fainting and then the sky got dark and evening came and just as much as some squawking stopped some other started and the young kids the white ones lamely talking and walking about they all seemed as mysterious as me and shrunken just as much : strangers in the strange land all over again all that Heinlein stuff that nobody but me had read and they stretched their time across the canvas they lived : buttered girls barely dressed dripping sex and elation and the sexy guys drooling with hard-on faces ready to fuck whatever they could in the name of time and power and parasite all and the melting tar of those city streets as the sky grew darker amassed the pennies and the bottle-caps and all the taxi-ridden sludge the much would hold : was Paradise we walked was all we knew was everything at all we'd ever bet the horses on and everyday it was something anew and I'd had been like this for months and hours the same fixated and twisted and high as a distant comet like fire like frenzy ripping high through the sky.
I bet the horses I couldn't come home again - old paint peeling tired windows sagging and that decrepit old hole of a place on east 11th forever mine and sinking like slime down the sides of a mine ! outside all those Ricos sat about - the fat old mamas and the new young papas and everybody somehow holding a silent baby and the screams and catcalls from stairwells and windows only made me wonder what was going on : ice cream and frozen pineapple juice and beer and sangria and anything else thrown together was being drunk from cavernous containers from the old land the home country whatever it all was and everytime I noticed something amiss it was just that time too somebody was blessing themselves or sighting the sacred cross with their rosary and sacred holy Mary Mothers of God stuff trembling-like and fainting and then the sky got dark and evening came and just as much as some squawking stopped some other started and the young kids the white ones lamely talking and walking about they all seemed as mysterious as me and shrunken just as much : strangers in the strange land all over again all that Heinlein stuff that nobody but me had read and they stretched their time across the canvas they lived : buttered girls barely dressed dripping sex and elation and the sexy guys drooling with hard-on faces ready to fuck whatever they could in the name of time and power and parasite all and the melting tar of those city streets as the sky grew darker amassed the pennies and the bottle-caps and all the taxi-ridden sludge the much would hold : was Paradise we walked was all we knew was everything at all we'd ever bet the horses on and everyday it was something anew and I'd had been like this for months and hours the same fixated and twisted and high as a distant comet like fire like frenzy ripping high through the sky.
