the cars

i failed third grade, once, years ago, and i'd like to believe it was because, my teacher had died, from being pushed down the stairs, or that i was down by the river with my little friends being taught how to make out by two hippie teenagers, a boy and a girl sitting on see~saws

i dropped out of college because it was summer time and i ate beef and broccoli on sixth ave

i lived in Miami, under a gigantic sun, turned so brown, my hair looked blonde, while every night i just wished we moved back to Astoria, Queens

i have, we have lived in Seattle, Wa. now for over ten years, the longest i have ever lived anywhere, and all i want to do is escape, this weather is killing me, if i see one, single drop of rain again, i might just close my eyes and stay in rooms with tea friends

how can something so vastly out of scale be played with ~ i wish the steel and glass was gauged to actual scale dimensions. . .

that way we could crash these little candy colored lozenges, into each other and create wonderful wrecks, damaged beauties, micro~surreal drama

roll them down streets with flat tires, flappn'

i drove away from 28 th ave, staring at stars and streets signs behind bomb pop colored fingers

each of us pulls a huge mutha' of a trailer behind, casting long dark shadows, from youths tingling tiny feet

for the passed few years, with these eager boys beside me, i've learned to live in the windshields view, not the rearview or the sideview

the road ahead, the indicators, the mile marker, to live this second, to roll it slow, or creep it full speed, screaming, throwing our lives into the air

twisting clouds of plastic adventures, with small scale brown eyes which see in the dark, see the invisible and believe everything, anything, all the time, anytime~

i have this very show in Seattle next month, there will be no opening