place for title

 

on the uber ride to the nail salon looking at the san antonio sky
bluer than my balls but unlike my balls studded with wistful clouds
the thought popped into my crowded head
i didn't know the value of things before but i do now
boxes bulging with crystals tarot decks books records jewelry lipsticks
ranging from black to barbie pink
art on the walls food going to waste in cupboard fridge garage
gleaming electric pink guitar orange amp
excellent credit score thousands of dollars in savings and checking
i could buy a boat a truck a house a horse a really excellent dog
but all i want to do is get to the one person on this fucking planet
whose voice acts as a narcotic and a stimulant
his name is david, bitches and cocksuckers and generic motherfuckers from malibu
to memphis who the fuck lives in memphis somehow i survived memphis
in 2000 drunk on daiquiris with the libra from new york
fuck the mistakes and the baggage and the karma like porridge three times a day
for however many twisted fairy tale years
i am flying to him streaked and bloody from salons
escaping the talons of time
and the suffocation of the gated subdivision
because he knows
the fucking
code