Monday, December 10, 2007

File under jokey fragments, recent


In retrospect,
my life was tits and whiskey.
I'd be lying if,
on this late-November night,
I said I didn't miss it a tit. I mean a bit.


I need to write more about other windows.
I'm getting bored of my own stories:
Yes, Antarctica, dishwasher blah blah blah.


I have sat imperiously, tie'd and jacketed,
in the lobbies of luxury hotels.
I have sipped coffee in Venice Beach hostels,
washed up from a firing.
I have mopped floors at the world's bottom
and fallen before bulls.
I'm 28. I should have spread things out more.


Anonymous said...

Good to see you haven't lost your sense of humor. Maybe that's where your focus should turn now, change it up a tit. bit.

Jerome Fusco said...

1. Whiskey, bad. Tits, good.
2. No, not so bad.
3. No need to spread it out. Carpe diem, holmes.

Anonymous said...

write more about tits and whisky, man. that's where all the good stuff's at. ice cold tits and whisky. or red hot tits and whisky. it doesn't matter. cause if whisky doesn't kill you, then the tits they surely will.

someone sang that, or something like it, once or twice.