CAFFEINE AND OTHER CARDINAL SINS
BY ROSS BERMAN
I heard Run, and
said why not.
American Dream: A
skinny white mistress leaves me feeling all too pleasant. That's all I
want. Just someone I can taste in my lungs, in my hair, my
teeth, my lips; someone I can smell on the tips of my fingers.
I heard Run and
said why not.
And I slept sound.
I almost lost an
eye to a Mexican block party.
I've been a good
boy, I deserve control over how I feel.
Or whatever
everyone else is having.
Purgatory: A clean
bathroom floor on a bad night. Cold sweat, room spun and then some. Jesus freak
still gets to ask questions. Feels like porcelain and smells like bile,
peroxide.
And when my head
swelled,
I heard Run and
said why not.
And I was Lazarus.
Corned Beef Hash
and Eggs go together better than Milk and Honey.
There's nothing
like battery acid.
Tangy,
pulse-racing, jet fuel acid.
Young And The
Restless: Anything that should've died off years ago. Petroleum products,
fossil fuels. A malt with two straws.
I carried a broken heart
in a wounded knee for days.
I heard Run and
said why not.
She threw herself
at me and I yammered on.
Hydrate Naturally:
Just because it's good for you, doesn't mean you know where it came from or
that it tastes any good.
I kept walking
until I could articulate properly,
up Lincoln, down
Clark, down broadway
until the words
were just right.
I blew out my knee.
I heard Run and
said why not.
Light up.
Light up.
