the river is a pub

Portland, OR May 16, 2008

I hallucinate electric lights shimmering
across the park grass
I hallucinate train sounds that bring
me back to Spokane, WA Hillyard
my dad orange light drunk
too blaring
I hallucinate this city with its bikes
that all look the same like refuse
from my life
and its people that all look the
same like refuse from my life
I hallucinate the traffic sounds that
maul me the train tracks that untrack
me
I hallucinate my aloneness
I hallucinate memories that my friends
and family were once here with me
I hallucinate sweat salt face
and reading Sherman Alexie in the park
I hallucinate my dirty cut up
bandaged feet
I hallucinate fear that I will
be lonely in Maine
and hungry for love in Maine
I hallucinate melting into the
twilight trickling flesh into the
ground becoming invisible
becoming slow amongst the fast fast
foreshadowing:

the trees are not trees
they are statues
the boats are not boats
they are beached whales
the people are not
people they are television
static
the bridges are
not bridges they are
tongues
the heaphone
wires are not
headphone wires they
are veins
the moon is not
the moon it is
a streetlamp
reality is hiding
maine some euphoric
neverland I hope
waits
a boys says:
“the river is a
pub, I don’t see
no pubs.”

on the train
she said, “the city
makes me so sad
to think of how
fucked up life is,
it just makes me
so sad to look
around.”
the 15 year olds
talking about
pregnancy
the 12 year olds
alone at 10pm

the school cop in 8th grade who accused
me of selling LSD then
warned me prematurely that if I was
taking it I could have hallucination
flashbacks for the rest of my life

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