I Locked The Door, Turned The Key

Leaving my apartment, quarter to nine.

I locked the door; I turned the key.

I thought of our time in Japan, we had no idea what time it was.

An American restaurant on a hill.

I have to call Matthew today, to see Charles Ray.

I love his music, different Charles, I’ll have a beer at twelve.

I fell out of love, and fall for the loved.

I went back to your place, you gave me a massage, you gave me head.

So, we went back down south, I went down on you.

These crowds invite me to participate, I’ve got a headache.

Thunder clouds roll in, garbage disposal disposed.

I wake from my sleep, I post the mail, I make eggs, I eat cookies.

Blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes,

They all make love to me.

Never forget.

I can’t recall. I can’t reflect. I have a birthmark; I have a defect.

Rewind, revisit, redo.

Leaving my apartment, quarter to nine.

I locked the door; I turned the key.

I thought of Tokyo.

The air so crisp, so right, my black jeans tonight.

The rabbit comes out, the brothers come out.

You’ll have noodles, I’ll have rice.

Fish on my plate, fish on my knee, better to spank your ass with a bucket of tea.

I went out to the mountain.

After the post office run.

You pointed incorrect directions for me.

I went over the bridge.

Like all the other written materials written before me.

And I am me and me is you and you are me and me is you.

I’m dead, because if I’m not dead, I jumped.

Jumped on the tracks, shocked you all, it’s how I’ll go, but remember.

Rewind.

Re-love. Replicate. Justify. Get high.

I know what I meant.

After all,

I’m an elephant.

And I locked the door, turned the key.

© 2007 David Greg Harth

07.11.14.09:53:34@599NYC