his shirt said, "security."
I didn't argue.
" hey, gee... check it out!
take a picture..." he said.
a river of spoon fed lies
( once soothing )
becomes stomach acid
to a bleeding ulcer
weaving the path
of a yo-yo with a twisted string, it
up in knots...
would an ocean
have the strength to drown out
a hollow voice
leaving a dear john message
a second hand answering machine?
I loved your story. yes, it's really a great story.
it leaves me wanting to be there,
wanting to show up and play my typical fucked up role
(as only I can...) to boldly lift my glass to D., a toast, thanking him for being so mysterious, and for reminding me
that there is a silent army of us out there...
we're like the colorful misfit fuzzballs mistakenly woven into a perfect silk tapestry...
blobs of silliness hanging here, dangling there,
with no apparent purpose or reason, yet odd enough to stand out from the backdrop of something beautiful... a strange
presence rattling the order of it all, just enough to make the rest of them wonder... enough to bring them to a sigh with
relief, feeling so much better about themselves, so happy that they are not us... oh no, not one of us...
us... part of that 'army of the mysterious' who slip in undetected some time before noon and leave beer and 2/3 of a carrot
~ gee cobain, 2003
one afternoon, on the phone, with -w.
"...when talking with you, my whole soul relaxes."
later, in an email, from me:
"just wanted to clarify... did you say
~ gee cobain, 2003
back to a window slammed shut
to the outside
apples fly into the blue,
suspended for the moment,
"fly with us..."
curtains draw in close,
closer to the end
of a performance worthy
of everlasting applause
I cry myself
he takes a bow,
gee cobain, 2005
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by me, gee cobain
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