“Weekenders On Our Own”, February Sketches, 2012

The first sketch for February 2012. Enjoy.

“Just a perfect day, problems all left alone. Weekenders on our own, it’s such fun. Just a perfect day, you made me forget myself. I thought I was someone else. Someone good. Oh, it’s such a perfect day. I’m glad I spent it with you.” – Lou Reed

The chronic itch tugs my leash.
A thoughtless distraction,
taut attraction.
Inhale exhale sweet decadence
blue lips fall into the voidspace
short of air sure of myself:
it’s cold cracking and numb dancing.
A perfect day with numerous
cigarettes, half a can of coffee
and a label in Spanish.
I can’t read Spanish.
Drip tremble stream sip steam.
Too hot, too lovely.
My hands shake with the itch
and the fumbling, crushing.
The swallowing of disappointment.
Thompson’s on television with
his Samoan lawyer covering
the races. Races.
White lines,
dark tabletop.
Waking dreams.
The sun comes up.
The world is 48 hours locked
in a cramped white room.
A perfect day.