Tuesday, September 21, 2010

125 Grand Ave.

there is this uncertain quality in the air lately...
i'm trying to understand it as I wake up everyday//
don't know where it's going
don't know where it's coming from

the same form is the form of yesteryears

I was a kid when I moved to Long Beach
living off of canned tomato sauce and dry noodles,
Fiona Apple and Magnolia,
jazz biographies and expired phone cards.

I would ride all over the city
with my headphones strapped
holding my cd player as if it was a gun
to my side to my side to my side
holding the notes clenched to my ribs

sometimes a note that she would hit
would make me cry
as i pedaled down hills
the tears climbing down my face

i was not frantic back then
i was inspired
but calm

(i knew time would come)

And then the fires destroyed the land in '03
and the ash came out of the sky
covering us all as we walked outside
my bike
my bike
my arms
my ribs
turning into rust