| My New Home 862 S.W. 6th street You apartment is the one on the Third up, End of the hall, To your right. To my right? Landlord tone...Yes. Enter through the gaping mouth. Columns crumbled like Pompei. The one at the end of the hall, Huh. Cracked sheet-rock jail walls On your left to right browsings Standing tall to white paint layered OLD. Standing in a Kool-Aid pool. Three steps in, cement dirt. Thirty-three left round and round...plateau, Up over mucky nylon office rug, Gum stained, foot shit drain, Steps, one by one, regressing time, Up, up, STOP. Your apartment hole is the one on the third, End of the hall, To your right. Second floor. Absently vicious image in Newspaper address circled in red. The day before, now present in the past. Dirty world of Old Deco, Old white walls, Roots growing in paint of imaginary trees. For lamp posts now looming outside Smirk sparks of inadequacy. A welcoming toothless hello, keep moving Under the replica of ancient worlds Inside people who dirty this filth Some more in their present truth. They claim the 'monkeys that came before us Did this, All of this'. Your A-partment is the one on the Third up, End of the hall, To your right... Third floor. Here the passageway is spotted with blood from legions Of regimented refugees reciprocating reincarnations. Walls? Olive-leaf thin and oily divisions for the living in the living quarters Matter not. Maybe the rats, spiders, and lice Mind the good healthy wood from the monkeys that do good From their moldy small cot. Now in, my mouth gaping like the front door. Out back, the Asphalt Kings with their crowns of neon light murkiness Jabber, steal, and smile gold Into Grandmama night. Beep, beep, worn stripes on streets, Roof leaks and dirty bare feet, shut doors Creak. Carbon monoxide grins greet, Closed fists exchange insults In my new home, 862 S.W. 6th street. This is your Apartment The one on the third up, End of my halls, Welcome mats laugh at me. I'll take IT. Landlord tone...Enjoy. -RIO |
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