20 lines

"After all that, turns out I made them up"
> thats what she said right after I pulled out of her
> I was laying on the bed in new jersey
> we had driven out to the shore
> hoping the water would make us like
> a married couple. all happy.
> but it didnt. you dont get magic
> having sex in asbury park
> "Remind me again"
> "what?" she said with her back to me
> I could hear the highway, and the surf
> and I was trying to forget how beautiful
> I thought she was 2 minutes ago
> when she came
> and her pussy clenched around my cock
> I believed her when she said I was the one
> "why Im here with you" I said
> "because you can be" I didnt see her mouth move
> but all I could think in my mind was fuck

sculpture

so I finally got these pictures up. I couldnt figure out how to turn em right side up. The doves were supposed to be gaginazos...which are these big black vulture they got all over medellin, but its illegal to trap them, and the girls wouldnt take pictures with them......the sculpture was originally gonna have a bunch of dead baby figures, but after being here...it just became about jesus christ, getting hitched, and being an american in colombia.....go figure

german vultures

I have breakfast in the morning, with the german, and I try to go to the studio in the afternoon and work on the sculpture. "medellin is no good for teamwork, I like teamwork" the german says this matter of fact, he´s talking about hiring hookers and having a threesome, the light in the back of the restaurant is clean because its early and the restaurant has just openened. I am calm because I have just woke up, I smile, I have heard him say this before. it is disgusting to me the 10th time, but he is the only friend I have here. him and the guys in the shop. I like the red chairs and the wood tops and the green and yellow paint, in the morning light, but I cant really call them friends. I look up into the skylight and try to feel new. the german is here for sex and to speak spanish and to get young girls, and theres a part of me that hates him because of the part of me that wants to be stupid like that and not die a little with each stroke. he shruggs his shoulders and pushes his top lip into his nose, and his bottom lip into a grimace, like a ¨"I dont know what to say" plead for words, a break in the morning light. a break in the clarity of another new day, a break in the clarity of two eggs with ham. Im thinking about catching black vultures, and whether or not theyll behave. Im thinking about 4 drunk guitar players, and a wreath of bones in the shape of a horse shoe. Im thinking about hookers dressed up like good girls, confused about which way to go, under the artificial light, under the perched birds, under the busses jesus, under a new day, four days away