An Update to Today

Nothing seems more right
than reading Bukowski while taking
a shit; and why do all the little
girls in Chinatown wear purple
winter coats? Yesterday I slept,
woke up, got a bus, slept, found you
sleepy and sick in your bed, slept,
dreamt I was Apocalypse coming to usher
in the end of the world, I reveled in that
thought, the end, the beginning, death and
life and all that, I was in a theatre, someone
had written a musical about my godlike feats,
I watched it from the balcony VIP, but I couldn't remember
her name, I called her Ashley and was wrong,
woke up, had dinner, a cold turkey sandwich
from 7-11 (Joe would be proud) and then turned in
for the night with you coughing and wheezing, and
me feeling you up,
I am sorry
I left for the night
into my running head
to nothing
and now I'll leave Bukowski
in the bathroom for you to find and ask
why?
So I can laugh and we
can go to
bed together
because it makes sense.
Thomas Pescatore grew up outside Philadelphia. He is an active member of the growing underground poetry/lit scene within the city and hopes to spread the word on Philadelphia's new poets. He maintains a poetry blog: amagicalmistake.blogspot.com. His work has been published in literary magazines both nationally and internationally, but he'd rather have them carved on the Walt Whitman bridge or on the sidewalks of Philadelphia's old Skid Row.