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one line

one long line

one very long thin line

the longest line you could ever imagine

and we get lost

walking past purple mountains

we walk lost

bare at last like the knife

having given

having spit it out like an unexpected olive seed

as the girl at the call service

screams over the phone:

“don’t call back! you sound like a jerk!”

ah…

drinking German beer

and trying to come up with

the immortal poem at

5 p.m. in the afternoon.

but, ah, I’ve told the

students that the thing

to do is not to try.

but when the women aren’t

around and the horses aren’t

running

what else is there to do?

I’ve had a couple of

sexual fantasies

had lunch out

mailed three letters

been to the grocery store.

nothing on tv.

the telephone is quiet.

I’ve run dental floss

between my teeth.

it won’t rain and I listen

to the early arrivals from the

8 hour day as they

drive in and park their cars

behind the apartment

next door.

I sit drinking German beer

and trying to come up with the

big one

and I’m not going to make it.

I’m just going to keep drinking

more and more German beer

and rolling smokes

and by 11 p.m.

I’ll be spread out

on the unmade bed

face up

asleep under the electric

light

still waiting on the immortal

poem.

the girl on the bus stop bench

I saw her when I was in the left lane

going east on Sunset.

she was sitting

with her legs crossed

reading a paperback.

she was Italian or Indian or

Greek

and I was stopped at a red signal

as now and then a wind

would lift her skirt,

I was directly across from her

looking in,

and such perfect immaculate legs

I had never seen.

I am essentially bashful

but I stared and kept staring

until the person in the car behind

me honked.

it had never happened quite like that

before.

I drove around the block

and parked in the supermarket

lot

directly across from her

in my dark shades

I kept staring

like a schoolboy in his first

excitement.

I memorized her shoes

her dress

her stockings

her face.

cars came by and blocked my

view.

then I saw her again.

the wind flipped her skirt

high along her thighs

and I began rubbing myself.

just before her bus came

I climaxed.

I smelled my sperm

felt it wet against my shorts

and pants.

it was an ugly white bus

and it took her away.

I backed out of the parking lot

thinking, I’m a peep-freak

but at least I didn’t expose

myself.

I’m a peep-freak

but why do they do that?

why do they look like that?

why do they let the wind do

that?

when I got home

I undressed and bathed

got out

toweled

turned on

the news

turned off the news

and

wrote this poem.

I’m getting back to where I was

I used to take the back off

the telephone and stuff it with rags

and when somebody knocked

I wouldn’t answer and if they persisted

I’d tell them in terms vulgar

to vanish.

just another old crank

with wings of gold

flabby white belly

plus

eyes to knock out

the sun.

a lovely couple

I had to take a shit

but instead I went

into this shop to

have a key made.

the woman was dressed

in gingham and smelled

like a muskrat.

“Ralph,” she hollered

and an old swine in a

flowered shirt and

size 6 shoes, her

husband, came out and

she said, “this man

wants a key.”

he started grinding

as if he really didn’t

want to.

there were slinking

shadows and urine

in the air.

I moved along the

glass counter,

pointed and called

to her,

“here, I want this

one.”

she handed it to

me: a switchblade

in a light purple

case.

$6.50 plus tax.

the key cost

practically

nothing.

I got my change and

walked out on

the street.

sometimes you need

people like that.

the strangest sight you ever did see—

I had this room in front on DeLongpre

and I used to sit for hours

in the daytime

looking out the front

window.

there were any number of girls who would

walk by

swaying;

it helped my afternoons,

added something to the beer and the

cigarettes.

one day I saw something

extra.

I heard the sound of it first.

“come on, push!