i am not amused with your last night's behavior...
except the parts where you break out in song and dance.

upside down.

i had a dream that we had a few drinks
then decided to go to the airport.

i drunkenly thought that we were getting on our sunday evening flight

you decided to take someone's motorcycle to the airport -
we left a grand brick library
it stood 5 stories tall,
outdoor balconies completed the west end of floor.

i put my helmet on and hold onto you.

it's a blur going from the 405
to some aged foreign urban city.
(something like if los angeles
had a history of a place like rome).

when i remember that i forgot my backpack on one of the library patios -
(second floor patio/grassed area where we were drinking).
there was no direct entrance to the second floor -
only the first and the fifth floor.
but for some reason there was no access to the other floors from the first.

i remember running around crazy -
trying to find my backpack with my passport and ID
so that id' be able to catch my flight.

i find myself in secret rooms and random banisters -
one of the stair hallways had an old looking statue
that looked like three stone bells strung up - one on top of the other.
a faint light shown on them from above -
indistinct faces were carved into the bells.

i end up on all outside balconies, unable to find my backpack.
i'm all sweaty and anxious that i won't catch my flight
having a glimpse that i was just dreaming, i tell myself -
this can't be real. it's only then
when i realize that i was wearing my backpack the whole time.
i run out of the library labyrinth
to find a bus to take me back to the airport.

i pull my moleskine out of my green backpack to check my flight time.
"3:05pm" i do a double take at my cell phone clock -
"3:35." "3:35"
i jump out of the bus and onto another motorcycle.
still drunk (but not realizing it),
i arrive at the airport - late.

a cop pulls me over.
i turn around, and all of a sudden i'm on a coastal highway at night.
he gives me a sobriety test - asks me to blow in the tube
then tells me, "i won't ticket you as long as you find another way home -
i can escort you home for $1000, or you can your own way."
i went for option 2 - to which he made me get in his car
to drive me far enough away from my motorcycle
that if i decided to walk back,
I'd be sober already.

he drops me off in a completely foreign neighborhood.
i see indian kids riding their bikes down the hills.
i call you to pick me up.
you ask me me, "what were you doing trying to catch the flight -
it's not until next Sunday."
trying to convince myself it was all a dream,
i ask you to come pick me up as i hide behind some pillars.
you ask, "where are you exactly? i can hardly hear you...
i'm at a club right now, I'll hit you up when i get out of here."

frustrated,
i start my five mile walk back to the coast highway.

and wake looking at the tree outside my window, upside down.

time for a getaway.

with a new car battery,
i spend some time to myself
exploring our old neighborhood
listening to your mix, part II.

(it made me feel guilty that
i now cannot impart any kind of advice
to help you get through whatever it is you are going through).

i feel sorry
for how quickly
our pettiness prevented the proper
words to be exchanged
when they needed to be exchanged.

ill-thoughts festered in silence.

and i feel ill for
how all these fucking songs
we shared are telling me of the truths -
i could not save you,
and you, me.

forced independence
made me turn against you.



the ringing in my ear is going away.
which probably means you
are no longer thinking
of me.

there are no lies
in this common experience -
truth need only be believed by
the eyes of the beholder.


i'm wishin'
that we fall back down
to earth
sometime soon.

and when i land,
i'll be waiting.