SANDWICHES
I DON’T LIKE THE CHICKEN SANDWICHES
said a friends’s brother when asked why he was checking
himself out of the Psych. Ward This in the midst of a world
wide Happiness Revolution according to Neil Pasricha: The
Book of Awesome More Awesome +Awesomer Neil needs
some valium to regulate his moods Isn’t too much happiness
also the definition of mania?
And what really has Neil given the world? Other than 1 more
reason for us to feel less than having squandered our happiness
behind the tasty freeze Who among us truly lives by the George
Costanza mantra: LIVE DAMMIT! other than under 13 yr. old
children When the future begins looming +one’s innocence fuses
with alcohol +weed +first hand jobs growing into a jaded fatigue
So when our heroes begin to die +trite clichés fly who sells their shit
and moves to Tunis? More likely there is reflection on the construction
of your fragile self back in a suburban bedroom When Neil +David +Joni
burned the midnight oil constructing a fearless girl revolutionary The you
who would go to California parties +ride into the sunset beside Mick
Today’s shriven psyche is misty Inertia tinged with occasional wonder at
the almost unrecognizable face emerging Last night I met a fairly wasted (in
every sense) man at a party who struck me as somewhat free though unbearably
Narcissus He looked like a corpulent Zappa +asked me to run away in his Carrera
I ponder this in light of new information His father shot himself close to the boy’s
6th b. day (but he’s brilliant brilliant! my cousin said) I am waiting on the corner
with a light bag packed with neatly folded melancholy READY for those California
parties
__
Enjoy every sandwich! Warren Zevon dying of cancer at 56
Spring 2016
songanddancegirl 