Daytripper

Springtime in NYC.
Grains of pollen
Looking for love in my lungs.
Pigeons humping pigeons
On charcoal sills
Overlooking the half naked
Walkers shedding their modesty
And the half baked stalkers
Shedding their decency
On the criss crossing
Kaleidoscope of streets
In Greenwich Village.

I'm badass and jonesing
For some skyscraper altitude
To go with my big city attitude.
A nickel bag of Washington Square's finest
Might do the trick so I peruse the park
For the tallest rasta wrap I can find.
Ganja gangstas got nothing on me
With my high waters at my knees
So homey hooks me up by the arch.

By the time I dig out
All the twigs and seeds
I got enough for one
Hit but what a hit.
Motherfucking line drive.
A strike of lightning
Zigzagging through my arteries
Burning off cholesterol,
Triglycerides and any other leeches
Unlucky enough to stand between
Me and Nirvana.
A Nirvana so hopeful
Kurt Cobain would still be strumming
A guitar on Bleecker Street.
Fuck Seattle.

Rhythms pounding like tribal drums
In my chest and the blood flow
Demands nothing less
Than a fuck to end all fucks.
An ejaculation to purge
Every drop of sadness ever
Settled within my soul till,
“Here she comes just a walking down the street
Singing do wah ditty, ditty dum ditty do.”

Skin tight black leather pants,
Stiletto boots, a real femme fatale
In a torn t-shirt with some quote from Gore Vidal
Reading “I'm a born-again atheist.”
Now there's a booty I can believe in.

Our eyes make like magnets.
Within seconds she wraps a studded collar
Around my neck and yanks my chain
East of Eden to the bowels of Alphabet City.
Steam rising from manholes in every corner
Like a Scorcese picture and I'm Deniro for a day.

She drags me down to the subway
Crawling through a portal
Just before the turnstiles
Into a labyrinth so dark
I felt like some furry ass mole
Led on a by a shrew.

She pushes open a door
To a studio barren
But for some art and a futon.
A painting on the wall,
By Pendejo of Soho,
Of a parade of Ken dolls
Dropping down a chute
Of a meat grinder,
Emerging as sausage.

A six foot tall wrought iron
Sculpture of interlocking gender
Symbols standing in a limestone
Basin filled with cherry Kool Aid.
The creepiness culminates
With bed bugs the size of buttons
Bouncing on the futon bed
Like hyper kids on inflatable castles.

She goes to the bathroom
To powder her piercing.
I don't see myself sitting no less spooning
In her leather cocoon so I steal a cigarette
To buy some time to size things up.

No lighter or matches but I spy
An acetylene torch I more or less
Remember from shop class
Or chemistry class
Or the movie Hostel.
Pretty much a marijuana induced blur
In all three cases but I figure
What the fuck and I actually get it going.
Going so good the cigarette disintegrates.
My face feels flush till the smell of rotten eggs
Reeks from my retreating hairline.

Saving face I toss the torch
Which lands in trash and the room
Goes up in flames.
I try to man up and pull my damsel
In distress from the fire
But her arms and legs are flailing
And she nails my balls with her boot.

She grabs the fire extinguisher
Screaming adjective and noun combos
So emasculating
I try to outrace the other rats
Running from the smoke.

I run and I run till I fall
Out of breath,
Lungs burning.
Squinting through watery eyes
I find myself propped up
Against the arch,
Homey shaking his head in disgust
As I begin to ache for the stability
Of a cab ride to Grand Central
And a train ride to a sleepy town
By the vapid rapids
Of the Bronx River.