Five Years At Least One
I remember growing up.
My dad was at Attica.
And I would burn ants as a kid.
And play with the rat poison mom had in the cabinet under the sink.
Richard and I would come up with these weird con-cock-shins.
Like little league volcano science experiments.
I grew up in a farm state.
Filled with apples and I remember cow tipping and buying crap at Sugar Loaf.
And being yelled at to “Just answer the fookin’ question” by my uncle who
gave me the big-ass tannish teddy bear.
I remember the Fourth of July when both of my grandfathers would come down
the walkway and shake hands with open arms, as if they haven’t seen
each other in years.
It’s funny, when I think about it, I remember seeing my next door neighbor
completely naked. She saw a sock on my cock and I saw her breasts divulge
that her puberty had beaten mine. I once saw a kid on a roof and once in a
puddle of rain.
All my memories fade away now in the sun, because that’s when I get these
awful headaches and have to run inside in the shade and darkness. And when
I do, I think of my father that I had lost in upstate New York. The 2nd
largest killing of Americans by Americans since the Civil War. I feel
bleeding on my side because of that, and I’ll never be complete. Even though
I gain a brother every now and then.
I wonder where Jessica is. She sure was pretty, her golden long hair in
braids. That’s what I remember. Too bad I repress certain memories, she
wasn’t my kid. I would have supported her if she was. She didn’t have my
eyes. My eyes. You know what I mean. I’m a seduction sucker. But do I get
sucked or do I suck?
If I asked you to sit in the photobooth and take a photo with me, would
you? That reminds me, I have to go to the meat market and get something for
a self-portrait. Christo said that something was not his and I believed him.
Because I’m unconditional, that’s why I can do this. And he was broken and
bent out of shape? Maybe he should have gone to the doctor then, right?
Doctor? Page them please.
My grandfather would make little toy cars out of Quaker Oat Meal cylinder
cartons and pencils. He also helped me to draw. I remember one distinct
thing he taught me. If you look at the corner of a room, where the two
walls meet, the seam; you’ll notice that its actually lighter than the two
walls. You might think that this is wrong, but actually the two walls are
both reflecting light into the seam, hence, making it brighter. I recall
drawing a pack of True cigarettes with him one day.
She made some pasta for me, and we had some wine. She danced Infront of me
in my year of Nineteen Ninety Nine. We went skinny dipping in her outdoor
pool and the towel she wrapped herself in dropped to the floor.
I was making a list the other day and I was checking it twice. I didn’t want
to see who was naughty and who was nice. A lot are not nice and I want some
more to be naughty. Say naughty. Be naughty with me. Let’s get together and
feel all right. I’m a rebel and I can hear the chimes in the wind. And see
the kite fly above me on the beach of the New Jersey shore. I’m not from
there.
One time I had a friend that introduced me to frog legs. He was an artist
at Columbia. He killed these little frogs and used the back leg muscles to
operate his art frog that was made of metal and machinery. It was a robot
frog with real muscles. David must have thought and wondered if the world
changed just because this little frog left the world. Kind of like when you
step into the ocean, the entire ocean rises around the earth, just because
you are in it! Amazing.
He had a dream about urinating in garbage cans. One Infront of Robin, one
Infront of Travis.
It’s kind of like design, or performance, or a bad artist, or bad move.
Almost like chess, but not checkers; that’s a hot dog, run it through, drag
it through the garden, take me to the river.
I once knew a man that had steel plates in his head. After gutting him I
tied my shoelaces around his neck and hanged him out in the yard.
My brother once taught me about love. But he left the family and has never
come back. He stole lots of things and hearts but I forgave him. He’s my
Valentine, and you are not. Do you hear that laughing or is it the gas in
my head?
Anyway, just a taste of fluid, that today, might be 100%. But give me at
most five years at least one year and I’ll show you something strange in the
mirror. But I won’t be talkin’ to you for a while. Sorry Pop, you know it
and I know it, I’ll catch your tears, if you catch mine.
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.06.20.23:59:25 @ 296NYC
Fathers Day 1999
99.06.24.03.15:21 @ 296NYC
Thursday after eating some French Toast at VG Bar