Conquest of Cool

"Dream as if you'll live forever.

Live as if you'll die today." -James Dean

You can't describe it. It's this thing

you feel. No one can tell you

what's right, or wrong. They ask me

about my father...

I freeze into stone

looking off into the horizon as sunset paints

the L.A. sky orange, yellow, and the red of my

worn leather jacket. A cigarette dangles from my lips

as the engine of my Porsche 550 Spyder thunders

onto the race track. "Little Bastard" tattooed

on the bumper. 1955 and suddenly I'm broken. My car

flipped, my friend decapitated, my neck broken.

Did we ever find out what cool was?

When does it get better?

The rope hangs like a ballet of terror

flooding a tan beach.

They tell me,

It gets better.

When?

Have i not waited patiently

for twenty years?

Still i wait in darkness

of the night.

Nothing, No one comes.

How could i blame them?

I'm just a mess of late night

innocence fractured before

bed. Stoned... looking up

as i slip my head through

the gaping sunlit loop.

The rope tightens around my

neck, cutting off what was left.

The wind blows and my body sways

drenched in the sweat of

my generation.

Saddie

Markings of a panda blur

into parked, sun burnt covered cars.

Dark shadows illuminate stormy

skies on summer cement. Rain

drops awaken beneath her

paws as she morphs pass.

Outrunning whistles, the warm breath

of her owner’s kiss.