12:08 A.M.


12:08 A.M.

At least I think it was 12:08 A.M.
My eyes were wet and unfocused
as I hunched over the toilet,
regurgitating about $200 worth of
top-shelf vodka.

It might be 12:03 A.M.,
I just don’t know.
Everything is blurry and
the indiglo clock on the towel shelf
kept blinking faster than I could read.

I wiped my mouth on the right sleeve
of my cashmere sports jacket
and with my left hand,
flushed the john two or three times.

Again with the numbers!
It always comes down to the fucking numbers!

If the police ever question me about
where I was on the rainy night of  October 14, 2013
at either 12:03 A.M. or 12:08 A.M.,
I’m pretty sure, like the filthy tiles surrounding the toilet,
I had it covered.

Ode to Wall Street Protesters






Lift up your voices
the moment is now
If they offer a minute
You take the whole hour
Don’t ask for what’s yours
You’ve already paid
The tents are erected
The course must be staid
I’ve witnessed your sorrow
I’ve heard what you’ve said
Don’t hold back your anger
They’ve made their own bed
Your nation’s in ruins
As their pockets are lined
In smugness they witness
The end of their time
The Arabs had Spring
Now we’ve got the Winter
To take back what’s ours
Reduce Wall Street to splinters
History has shown
No one survives in a bubble
We’ll build a new world
From ashes and rubble
The snow may be falling
But the heat of the moment
Requires conviction
And full on atonement
No longer believe
This American Dream
The game was rigged
We only seek to redeem
So lift up your voices
The deaf cannot hear
But in unity certain
They’ll tremble in fear.