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 $$$        [ HOE E-Zine #986 -- 12/23/99 -- http://www.hoe.nu ]     .,$$$
 `"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'

    your life: that girl.  she walked and she talked and she didn't look
 back.  green broken bottles and the shadows they cast.  cracks in the
 pavement and skinned knees.  those eyes caught you like a snag on your
 sweater.  you're such a go-getter.  squashed roaches underfoot, and you
 said someday you'd leave.  but a pale finger said stay, and beckoned you
 back.

    time and busted clocks and cuckoo birds.  and a spring in the mattress
 put a spring in your step.  but still you'd forget.  why did she talk to
 the birds?  you tossed and you turned as the city burned.  the subway man
 sang the subway song and the subway man was you.  but he had a mask.  a
 siren at 3am and a gunshot at noon, and you said someday you'd leave.  
 but a pale finger strummed a guitar, and beckoned you back.

    the wrong words from the right girl.  and so you locked the door.  she
 sat on the shore beyond and dried her eyes on a star.  the dreamers slept
 and the sinners wept.  a phoenix from the ashes before her eyes.  sunken
 into your pillow with sunken eyes and you dreamed of sunken cities.  a
 red light flickered outside your door, and a black dog buried a secret
 there, and you said someday you'd leave.  but a pale finger touched a
 star, and beckoned you back.
   
    a cracking mast and a broken bone.  holes in your pockets where the
 sunbeams shone.  a handprint on the crooked mirror.  and there's no one
 there.  a tinted car with a trunk of flesh, a beast of burden for you to
 catch.  she buzzed around your head.  and urged you on.  emerald eyes
 with hidden truths, and a camera eye's unbroken gaze, and you said
 someday you'd leave.  but a pale finger touched your lips, and beckoned
 you back.

    distant thunder and echoing waves.  the dark was the cloak of a
 clouded night.  stiff in bed like a gnarled tree.  and her lips touched
 yours as she took the key.  cold blue shale on dented glass.  train
 whistles and smoky haze and the perfume of a downtown night.  you'd meet
 her on the isle before soon.  you always were one to follow, weren't you?  
 the rusty grates and the putrid stench.  that was your promise.  when you
 cleansed your hands, you cleansed your soul, and that's what you told
 yourself.  a swift step and a new silver watch, and you took your window
 seat. wire-frame landscapes of wilted steel and sick yellow lights.  lit
 your way, lit her way, lit the way home.  and the landscape changed.  
 bloodshot eyes on the red-eye flight, and you said someday you'd leave.
 but a pale finger stirred a drink, and beckoned you back.

   the sun nearly hurt.  no cares in the world, and a blue-green hue of a
 virgin sea.  dark men in pressed suits, and a spot at the governor's
 table.  the powder white of her skin and the white powder in her hands,
 and the world was yours.  bent telephone poles and sugar cane plantations.
 roads that end at barbed wire fences.  negro boys with torn shirts and
 torn smiles, and the money in their pockets isn't theirs.  the dim clubs
 and the thick smoke.  the man with the cigar spoke money and powder.  and
 there was fire in his eyes.  you couldn't take the small talk. and so she
 made it. but you went for some air and found a dead man there, and the
 earth spun around you.  you awoke in the midnight hour, down the crooked
 clay street, in bed in your tower of glass.  outside the children robbed,
 and the palm trees swayed, and you said someday you'd leave.  but a pale
 finger touched your shoulder, and beckoned you back.

   back in flight like an iron bird, with your life in tow.  and her life
 too.  the men in the subway all worn down and leather-faced.  a scowl at
 your tan, and a puff of condensation.  one squeal of the door, and life
 began again.  a chinese man selling wisdom to the ignorant (or curious),
 and a fruit cart in it's usual place.  around the last corner, orange
 cones and yellow tape and some unused chalk. no use for the chalk.  so
 life began again.  but it was the beginning of the end.  sleep came in a
 fit of fear, and an acid tongue lapped at your ear, and you said someday
 you'd leave. but a pale finger flipped off the light, and beckoned you
 back.

   disoriented, and deluded.  you always were the paranoid one.  she said
 life went on.  and she was half right.  a siren was a war cry.  the negro
 boys were devils (weren't they just jumping rope).  she kept the
 photographs where you'd never find them, you thought.  and then you
 remembered.  the man with the cigars stared straight through you, and he
 took your soul for spite.  on the isle, you signed on the line with a
 shaky hand.  so what else is there to say?  the rain poured down loud and
 the wind made hollow sounds out of each crack and hole.  the subway man
 sang the subway song and the subway man was you, but he wore a mask, and
 you dared not peek.  'what shall pass, shall pass,' he sang, and the mask
 wore a grin.  the green pale shadow of a glass bottle end and a horrible
 swipe. a red-orange flash as the phoenix fell.  the red light flickered
 out, and the black dog sniffed the air, his secret safe.  somewhere
 across the sea , a new cigar was lit, and small talk made.  men played
 cards, women wept, children played, and you said someday you'd leave. but
 a lifeless finger, curled and still, beckoned you back.

[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS!           HOE #986, BY BASEHEAD - 12/23/99 ]

