dave church

 

Saturday the 2nd

     Busy night! City excited with the usual weekend fever. Nightclubs full with playboys and playgirls. Itís depressing to be around them. Theyíre all the same --- all looking to secure the future while trying to forget the horrors and mysteries of the past. I prefer being around those not burdened with a heavy sense of tense --- or no sense of tense at all --- like animals and insects.
     Broke as usual! Never learned about stashing money. It must run in the family. I remember once as a kid attending the funeral of an uncle. He was the rich uncle --- or so everyone thought. He died with a penny in the bank and a nickel in his pocket. My father said that was the reason everyone was crying. He himself died with barely enough money to make a phone call. Nobody cried.
     Iím tired of this crummy room. Part of the ceiling above the window is falling down. The walls are dirty gray and full of holes. I sometimes think tiny strangers visit me while I sleep. I should probably fumigate the whole place. I should probably move. The bathroom down the hall is as clean as anything one would find at a gas station or truck stop. Disgusting!
     Clothes soaking in the bucket. Better hang to dry. I never have more than two shirts and one pair of pants at a time. Iím screwed if my shoes break.
     I keep asking myself the same question --- where does one go from where theyíve climbed in theyíre out of breath or mind?
     Starving! Wish there was a stove in here. Canít cook much on a single-burner hot plate. Iím sick of pizza and Chinese. I sometimes miss a womanís touch in the kitchen more than the space between her legs.
     The poems inside my head are playing hard to get. Just when I think I have one by the throat it breaks away. Perhaps I should be more charming. No! Wait until the right one comes along.
     Thought I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
     Better close the shade --- lock the door.

from the book Hack Job


dave church

dave church was born in 1947 and lives in Providence Rhode Island where he drives a cab. He has published eight chapbooks of poetry and Hack Job is his first book of prose.

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