THE EMOTIONAL SERPICO

I've seen corruption. 

Soul train wrecks. Tears made out of alchohol when hearts were dry as a martini. I've been fooled and stripped naked of my own bones. My rizorius muscle crept paralized on my face, like a spider shot in all of his legs.

I smelled the skin of another woman and I felt like a crocodile waiting to turn into a Gucci purse. Got rid of verbs to make room for the light. What I got was light as opposed to heavy, significant and worthwhile. My trip to the moon turned to a stroll to the grocery store.

Don't sell me a Greek tragedy when all I want is the popcorn that goes hand in hand with a fine romcom to be seen on a mild Sunday afternoon. Don't shout at me for I am a lips reader and some of the lips have been just so thin that cut me like a razorblade.

And then I pleaded.

I tried my esperanto on people who weren't ready to leave the caves. I commited soul robberies but found no gold. Just pieces of haikus that ended in me, me, me. 

I was lost like the last piece of a puzzle that fell from the table, got stuck on a shoe, was carried outside, fell in a puddle, got swallowed by a straydog who was shot seconds later by an angry mobster.

And as I write I realize that writing is such a foolish deed. Blogging? A succedaneum for life.

Live, boyo.

Try yahoo messenger.

And then She walked majestically, like a beautifully crafted sentence that left me mouth agape with desire for more.

To be continued ?