Beside A Lake

You stand with our dog
At your side
Beside a lake

Watching the small waves.

You laugh.
I throw a stick.
The dog runs.
I smile.
You shrug.

I Remember

Going to see Night Hawks, Thief, The Little Drummer Girl and North Dallas Forty with you.
Going to San Francisco with you and Jenny to pick up Jody and bring her home.
You dropping me off on a mountain pass somewhere in Colorado.
Taking me to Mervyn's to pick up a T-shirt on my wedding day
Giving me a ride to court when I got caught pissing in public
Picking Michael and I up in Durango and taking us to Ganado.
Taking you to a Peter Tosh concert. (You sat outside because it was too loud but you told me that you enjoyed it.)
Going shopping in Gallup.
Doing laundry in Black Canyon City.
Eating pizza at the Tree House.
Sharing a cheap motel room in Bakersfield.
You buying me cars
Paying my rent sometimes
Bumming me smokes
And giving me hope
When I was just about to let go of the rope.

Reality Sucks

In my dream
I'm a little too artsy
For my own good
But nonetheless
All the critics' darling.

When I wake up
I can't
Tune my guitar.

In my dream
I'm an aristocrat
Sitting on a beach
Drinking gin and tonics
Watching the sun
Slip behind a volcano.

When I wake up
I check my pockets
And there's nothing left
And that wouldn't be so bad
If I weren't fifty-thousand dollars
In debt
And in desperate need of cigarettes.

A Good Night

Laying on her bed eating
Corn dogs
Hamburgers
French fries
And ice cream bars
Watching a movie
Sean Penn made
About a Bruce Springsteen song.

(Viggo Mortensen gets out of the army and doesn't want a job. He wants to drink and lay around in a motel with his girlfriend. David Morse, his brother, is frustrated but knows that if a man turns his back on his family well he just ain't no good so he tries to help but there's no helping some people.)

A great song is cinematic, I say.
What? She asks.
A great song is cinematic, I repeat.

She says something
I half hear.

I say,
I love you baby.

And I do
And I always will

No matter what goes down.

She gives me
A pain killer
She lifted
Off the man
She lives with.

I fall asleep
And let her finish the movie solo.

I know how it ends.

I've heard the song a hundred times.

When Rainbows Were Rainbows

You can have the modern world.
I'll take the seventies.

When rainbows were rainbows
I traded love for something else.

Better music.
Blood on the Tracks
Dreaming My Dreams
Better football games on television.


You can have the modern world
I'll take

Vietnam
Nixon

Bell bottoms
Colombian Gold

Land lines
Pong

My grandmother's house
Wisconsin.

Noir Epilogue

I came to in a cornfield at dawn - my chest was burning - crawled to a road

Why didn't she put two in my head?

I came to
In a cornfield
In shock
With a burning chest
Wondering why
She didn't put two in my head.

Noir X

I showed the bank clerk the poor bastard's driver's license and emptied his safe deposit box. She told me not to worry, you look just like him. You could almost be twins. Nonetheless I was scared shit-less and a little pissed.

I took fifty-thousand for my trouble, I said, when I handed her the contents of the box. That's fair, she said, and smiled. Thank you. I told you it would work.

We picked the girl up at a bar and drove off into the sunset. I have to pee, she said, and pulled over beside a cornfield. Come with me, she said, and winked. It's dark in there.

We both took a piss. I heard something behind me. I turned around the girl was in front of me. Oh shit, I thought. What did you expect? She said. How much was in the box? I asked. But it was already too late for questions.

Noir IX

Get his wallet, she said. I did. She untied the girl. About time, the girl said. You look familiar, I said. Shut up, the girl said.

She cleaned the place up a bit. That should do, she said. Let's get out of here. Where's the gun? She asked. I threw it in the lake, I said. I guess that's as good a place for it as there is.

What are we going to do with him? I asked. Leave the prick where he is, she said. He said he wasn't married, I said. He wasn't, she said. I thought he was your husband, I said. Well he wasn't, she said. Then who was he? I asked. My brother. You're an idiot, the girl said. I couldn't honestly disagree.

We drove to a motel and the girl got out and went into a room. Who is she? I asked. My high school sweetheart, she said. Why did you lie about being married? I asked. What difference does it make?

The girl came back, threw a bag in the trunk and we drove to Milwaukee.

Noir VIII

If I had it to do over I wouldn't have picked up The Maltese Falcon and thrown it and maybe that would not have set in motion everything that happened after.

She was sitting at the bar in a blond wig wearing sunglasses and a cowboy hat drinking a tequila sunrise. Who are you hiding from? I asked. Everyone.

I told her what happened. Is he dead? She asked. I shot him twice. I said. That's not what I asked, she said. He's dead, I said. What about the girl? She asked. I tied her up, I said. She's going to be pissed.

We have to go back and get something, she said. Are you crazy? I asked. That depends.

On what? I asked. She smiled. Finish your drink, she said. We have a lot to do.

Noir VII

I made hamburgers and we each killed a bottle. We went to bed early and screwed like rabbits for a couple hours.

This is one of the best days of my life, I said. I enjoyed it too. I'm picking up my money in the morning and going to Arizona. Do you want to come along? She asked. Why not? I said.

I woke up with a well-deserved headache. A man was sitting in a chair with a shotgun across his lap. Did you sleep good? He asked. Who are you? I asked. He laughed. Who am I? Who the fuck are you?

I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. I asked you a question.

I think I'm kind of your wife's boyfriend, I said. I'm not married asshole. Baby! he yelled. A girl walked into the room. Tie this dickhead up and call the cops.

Noir VI

Do you know how to use it? She asked. I wish I didn't, I said, and placed it on the table. But you do?

Yeah, I said. Let's go to bed. I want you inside me, she said.

She put ice and the beer in a cooler and I carried it into an old fashioned bedroom. Quaint, I said. Tacky. This place reminds me of my husband.

When I woke up she was gone. I finished The Maltese Falcon. She returned with more beer and bottles of tequila, gin and whiskey. My kind of girl, I said, and smiled.

We killed the afternoon on the pier drinking and shooting empty beer cans we threw in the lake.

Noir V

I fixed the window with a piece of plywood I found in a shed.

Who owns the cottage? I asked. My husband's parents. I have to go get some supplies, she said, and left.

At least I got a straight answer, I thought, and found The Maltese Falcon on a bookshelf.

She threw a beer at me. Take a shower. You stink, she said, and picked up the book. Is this any good? She asked.

She pulled open the curtain. Mind if I join you? She asked, stripped, and stepped into the tiny tub. Cozy, she said, and washed my back. Where are we? I asked. Just outside the town I grew up in.

What are we doing here? I asked. Someone owes me some money, she said. How long will this take? I asked. Not long, I hope.

I have a present for you, she said, and tossed me a .357 Magnum. What's this for? I asked. My husband and his whore might show up any minute.

Thanks. I guess.

Noir IV

We drove all day. I slept most of the way. When the sun set we stopped at a greasy spoon.

Where are we going? I asked. You'll know when we get there, she said. That's not an answer.

We came to a small lake and she pulled into the driveway of a cottage. We walked to the lake. She took off her dress and dove off the pier. Are you coming in? She asked. It's too cold, I said. It's refreshing.

Will you go inside and get me a towel? She asked. The door was locked. The door's locked, I yelled. Break a window.

Lightning preceded thunder. Hurry up I'm freezing, she yelled. I walked back to the pier. I'm not breaking the window, I said. It started raining. She got out of the water. I'll do it myself, she said, and picked up a rock.

Noir III

I looked north and walked south. A red Mustang flipped a bitch and stopped. Where are you going, she asked? Home I guess, I said. Get in.

Do you like Lover Boy, she asked, turned up the radio and did a U turn. I'm going the other way, I said. Don't be a pussy.

Where are we going? I asked. She smiled. It's a surprise, she said. Take the wheel, she said, and changed her dress while I steered.

She grabbed a bottle out of her purse and handed me a pill. Take this, she said. What is it? I asked. It will make you feel better. You look like shit.

Noir II

I pulled some cash out of my sock, paid my tab, retraced my steps and found her standing under a street lamp smoking a cigarette. Where did you go? She asked. What did you do to me? I said.

If you're going to be paranoid this relationship will never work, she said. According to the bartender you don't exist, I said. She laughed. She's a jealous bitch. Let's go to my room I have something I want to show you.

She led. I followed. Look at this, she said.

I woke up on the floor beside an empty bottle of tequila, half a pack of cigarettes and a brick. I rubbed my burning head, lit a smoke and yelled, where are you? She didn't answer. I walked outside.

The sun was in the process of coming up over a mountain that suddenly appeared on the horizon. I walked to the street and tried to remember which direction I came from.

Noir

While we drank in a tavern her unsavory past reflected off my eyes and back to her's and it scared me a little but it also excited me and I couldn't wait to walk across the street to her motel room.

What are you doing here, Mac, she asked. My name isn't Mac, it's Eric, I said. Whatever, she said, and drained her glass of tequila and tapped her empty glass on the bar.

While we walked to the motel she pointed at the sky and said look the stars are laughing at you. So it seems, I said, and flicked my spent cigarette into a ditch. Why do you think I picked you out of that mess at the bar? She asked.

I woke up in that ditch beside my cigarette butt, a used condom, and an empty bottle of wine with her laughter ringing in my ear.

I walked back to the bar and asked the bartender about the girl I was sitting with. You weren't sitting with anyone. And you owe me twenty-three dollars, she said.

Quitting

The blue light
Burns
In your eye.

You take a drag off
My cigarette.

I laugh.
It isn’t funny.
You say.

Yeah it is.

Psychodelic Reflections

I wrote a song
For
A
Girl
I met in a used book store.
I
Played
It
For
Her
Under a tree beside a lake
On
The
Fourth
Of
July
While fireworks exploded
Over
Our
Heads.

Outside Houston's Listening To George Harrison

A beautiful woman
Two men
And another woman

Walked by me
While I smoked
Beside my cab.

I lost her
When she walked
Into a tunnel.

Even though
I never had her

And didn't really
Want her.

I felt sad.

Correlations

When talking or writing about politics it helps to contradict yourself fairly often.
It makes you more believable, and your position a hell of a lot more interesting.
Sticking to the party line will turn you into a hack and render your opinions next to worthless.
For instance, if minimum wage should be increased does that mean every fourteen-year-old girl should be able to get an abortion without her parents' knowledge?
If a balanced budget is a good idea, does everyone have to have the right to have a machine gun in a safe in their study?

It Ain't Fair

Sometimes you wait forever
For something to happen
And it doesn't.

Sometimes you walk down the street
Trip over your feet
Break your ankle
And spend the night in jail.

My father used to tell me
That life isn't fair
Whenever I said
That isn't fair.

I never understood why
Things aren't fair
And I still don't.

Time In And Of Itself

Time
Is nothing left.

Lost.
Treeless forest.

Prehistoric

River
On the left.

Decent landmark.

But
Worthless.

Looking
For something

That doesn't exist.
Used to.
Might someday
Again.

Raining.
Red.
Can't see shit anyway.

If you don't know where you're going any road will take you there.

Or so they say.

Wilderness

A tree alone next

To a river rolls into

A canyon of fools.

Fractions

I sit and watch you

Add and subtract numbers that

Mean nothing to me.

If We Met In A Bar In Fargo

If we met
in a bar
in Fargo
I would fall
for you.
Your melancholy
eyes
would draw me
into your story.
I wouldn’t tell you
mine.
I would let you
write
that
one
too.

If we met
in a bar
in Fargo
I would buy
you as much
beer as you could
drink.
I would steal
a truck
and take you
wherever it was
you were
happiest.
Once
I
was
happy
too.

If we met
in a bar
in Fargo
I would play
Pasty Cline
on the jukebox
Strange or
Sweet Dreams
Folsom Prison
Blues
something
to dance to
I hate dancing
but I would
dance
with
you.

If we met
in a bar
in Fargo
I would
sit at the bar
act cool
drink whiskey
on the rocks
smoke Winston
after Winston
wonder what
to do
with someone
famous and
pretty
as
you.

High School Blues

crying trees
stolen light

under a bridge

pissing on a hot rock
smoking a cigarette

thinking about
what she said

makes me sad
what the heck

one more
of everything

might
do the trick

Cold Day In Hell

None to accompany me - On this last journey - Against the wind - Across the frozen desert - Home - To begin - Again.

In My Time (Essays About Rock And Roll)

If you were introduced to Hank Williams, Jr. by Monday Night Football you rightly probably think he's a yahoo, however, between 1978 and 1985 he might have been the best country singer in the world (apologies to Don Williams). If you don't want to take my word for it go out and buy his re-mastered compact disks for the bargain price of five dollars, ninety-seven cents.

Back in the day, John Mellencamp changed his last name to Cougar for financial reasons. I think changing your name is stupid and don't think that you can change it back and retain creditability especially when your chosen name is Cougar. Anyway, when I was a young man, I thought John Cougar was pretty cool and a fine songwriter and singer. I saw him open for Heart at the old Phoenix Coliseum and he put on a hell of a show and blew those talentless bimbo's off the stage, however, as I got older and heard more music I found Cougar's to be somewhat pedestrian although his good songs were always worth a listen. A couple days ago I asked my brother to burn John Cougar's latest album and it's (authentic) the best thing I've heard in awhile and I listen to it all all the time.

If you are at the end of the line and down to your last three hours play Dreaming My Dreams, do three or four bongs, a line of coke, have a glass of your favorite spirit and smoke as many cigarettes as you can.

Some Of This Is True

My father
Freezes music

On the side of a
Mountain
In Phoenix.

A hawk flies
Through a purple sky.

I catch songs
In an opium den.

My sister is a waitress
In a French restaurant.

My brother teaches Indians
So does his wife
And my mother

On the Navajo
Reservation.

We’re all drunks
Except Anita.

Kimosabe

You have to watch
Your speed on the reservation
Reservation cops will pull you for anything

No street lamps
Bars
Night life

Can't see the crap
I like that

As many dogs as people

I think Indians are on to something

Sometimes I hate the reservation
Can't find anyone
Can't see beyond the headlights

But when the radio is coming in good
At 2 AM

It might be the best place in the world

For me
At least

A pretty good facsimile

Giant Ball

Love is expensive
You told me
The night we met
I’m never getting married.

Love is cheap
But it ain't free
In a dirty motel room
You look better
Than anything I’ve
Ever seen.

Love is beautiful
My daughter laughs
Throws a stick in the
Air and yells look
Daddy.

Love is overrated
You state flatly
In a dive in Bakersfield
I’m half in the bag.

Love is everything
Rolled up
Into a giant ball
Unfortunately.

Love is war
Some say
I don’t disagree
Necessarily.