Bar Room Brigade

Original piece written 7/30/07

We are all suffering together, alone
in this bar
We buy each other drinks
and make jokes
and go home dying.

We should reach out, but instead
We are breeding a generation
with scars on our arms we don't talk about
and we can't look each other in the eye
We want to scream but hold it in
we are awkward in our movements
and bad at relationships
We are confused by adult live
and everything that comes with it
We are searching for our golden ticket
Our promise to a better live than this
But there are no more chocolate bars
Or maybe there are
but no one has the ambition to find one.

Rat Race

Running
Running
Faster
blood pumping
feeling sick
Keep up
Keep going
Just a little more
Keep running
and running
and running
and falling further and further behind
is this even the right race?
I can't see the finish line
how much further?
Keep going
can't breathe
so tired
knees hurt
getting old
water
need water
stop for water
Catch breath
Can't catch breath
too much
further behind
not strong enough
shoes are old
need new shoes
Run
Keep running
Faster
Harder
keeping pushing and it will come
it will get easier
hurt less
Just keep going
can't see the way
pretty sure this is the wrong path
must have gotten off course
wilderness is tough terrain
Keep running
just keep running
wrong direction
Can't turn back.

San Diego Dreaming

The palms are lazy to the fact that inside the buildings there are people living, and working, and dreaming who don't see them, nor are aware of their being.

No one should stress in Southern California.
The beaches are ready and waiting to absorb your stories and tell you theirs.
The air is warm but sometimes dry.
Sometimes it's so dry that newspapers curl up at the corners and it hurts to breathe.
Santa Ana winds are no joke, ask Joan Didion.

On every corner is fruit, or coffee, or alcohol, or Mexican roadside tacos.
Suntans and painted toes rules the sidewalks.
Gyms and Wellness Centers and Yoga Studios run the streets and glitter in the ever present sunlight.
Cars never die because they do not rust,
rather the roads beat them to pieces
and the gas prices keep their tanks low.

We are all fighting for the same jobs,
jobs that pay us like the cost of living is low
and treat us like we can be bought and sold.
Some of us choose to surf instead
or start our own consulting service or operate a Food Truck.
Some of us live on orange juice and smiles.

We all come here with big dreams seem to grow stagnant in the sun.
Or maybe we were born here and simply never left.
We get caught up in traffic and happy hour martinis and organic foods and living expenses
and forget to open up our eyes, enjoy the Palms lining the streets, and just breathe.
We are San Diego.