8/365

i didn’t want to play music.

lurking around the house:
taking down decorations,
fighting allergies or a cold.
keeping tabs on the news.

a quick run in the rain
up and down a few hills.

but I grabbed a few left over beers
and a half a bottle of wine.

I wore the fat cords I bought on
Haight street
and worked up a leading man swagger.

drums. bass, guitar.
change every mood.

by the end….screaming;

“some of those that work forces, are the same that burn crosses.”

felt like the truest thing in my whole life.

got lost in little india walking home
trying to find a cab.

cold pizza.
safe bed.
ringing in the ears.