(Nights before San Francisco)

Pushed up against a wall, your mouth tastes like home. Past; pending on whether we allow ourselves to faulter, yet again, into each others arms.

You take my time, for it means nothing to me, and wrap your arms around solitude, where I sit, drunk on green liquor. Hair falls softly, enshrouding in dark fantastic, wondering if home will be created or destroyed. Sounds play in the background, but nothing matters, except your eyes on my breasts. A slight trick of hand and then down you go.

Morning will find you awake; wishing you hadn't done something you did. Morning will find me parched and perished, searching for lust in your eyes but finding only regret.

Toronto (your love will always fail me)

Close my eyes, watching over morning due. Naked, beyond comprehension, we lie like two mechanicaldeers frozen in the snow. I'll watch over you, as you sleep, listen to bouys tinkling in the fog. Magic realism creeps in, my back hurts, and takes over as the jet lands in Toronto.

Missing you will have to wait until the moon is too full of itself to hold water.

My eyes are soft now, with thoughts of spiders making webs between our toes. Your cigarette smoke lingers in my cord jacket. You know, the red onewith the sailor buttons. You always did like my parliments best. Awoken, breathless, forsaken and cold.

I drink too much, play beethoven on the piano and read a lot of trashy novels. You watch too many late night John Wayne re-runs instead of making love to me. When I'm gone I'll wonder why the sand never holds our shape after we move or if I was the one spared or the only one not invited.

To tell the truth, your mouth was the only home I ever wanted.

Bellevue! Bellevue! Bellevue!

Drifted, dazed, I'm up at Bellevue Bellevue Bellevue and drinking champange. Down the streetlives a man, onced fucked, twice removed. I'll take another drink and pass the bottle to PlaytapusRex. He laughs and spits the champagne out of the bottle and into his mouth. Marvelous.

Twisted, beyond reasonable doubt, towards the setting sun. Below blazed the freeway which is backed up andsirens and wailing. I'd write more on it, but we all know city life. Dazed, Reckless and much morethan convenient descriptions abound. I'll give if you do.

We get up to leave but something draws us back. Aqua Marina is passed out on the bench, wimpering about He-Man and the princess of power. We lug her up the street and string her up to the sign posts advertising Bellevue Bellevue Bellevue.

Rex and I romp down the road and smoke a bowl of Salvia. Wishing and washing our hands, we divulgeinto a sea of delicious redvines, creating a rope to swing down the road on. He asks me what doth my purpose be. I tell him to fuck off and take another swig of champagne. It's classier that way.Move over, we're heading north now, Vancouver B.C then onto midnight.

In my rear-view mirror I can see her facetied to the post advertising Bellevue Bellevue Bellevue. I almost feel sorry for her. almost.We strung her up good. Slammed the nails home. Almost christ-like.

Afterwards we all felt relieved.