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