EXOTHERMIC BOY

This is a poem about the cremation of my brother Linn.

SUMMER HAS A PLACE FOR THEM

SEND YOUR CHILDREN TO PLAY IN THE ELECTROMAGNETIC FIELDS
SUMMER HAS A PLACE FOR THEM UNDER ULTRAVIOLET EYES
HIDE AND SEEK WITH RADIATION
BUILDING FORTS HIGH IN THE POWER LINES
WRITING THEIR NAMES IN THE MELTED BLACK TAR STREETS
NO MATTER HOW DESOLATE THE FUTURE
MARCHING WITH DEDICATION TO PLAY
LIKE TINY ANTS WITH DEDICATION TO WORK
ALL AT THE MERCY OF THE IMAGINARY GODS OF THEIR PARENTS
AS NAIVE AS CHILDREN, BUT INFINITELY CRUEL
HOLDING MAGNIFYING GLASSES BENEATH OZONE HOLES
BURNING AWAY THEIR YOUTH IN SICK PLEASURE
UNTIL AT SUMMERS END
FROM WITHIN THE PEELING RED SKIN
YOUR CHILDREN WILL IMMERGE
CHILDREN NO MORE
THEIR PLAYFUL INNOCENTS WILL BE DEAD
THEY WILL TAKE THEIR PLACE WITH THE WORKING ANTS
AND FALL VICTIM TO THE CANCER THAT IS EVERYDAY LIVING
EVERYDAY DYING
ALWAYS DREAMING OF BETTER SUMMERS PAST

A LIFE IN THE DAY OF THE MAYFLY

COMING OUT OF THIS NYMPH STATE
TO SEE AS ONE IN A THOUSAND WAYS
NOTHING COMES IN
NOTHING GOES OUT
MY VESTIGIAL MOUTH
TO LIVE AND DIE IN JUST ONE SETTING SUN
TO LIVE AND ONLY MAKE ONE CONTRIBUTION
WHEN SKY IS FILLED IN RITUAL COLLISION
HOT MASSES OF INSECT COITION
FROM NESTING EARTH
TO WORLDLY GRAVE
THE CRUEL GIVE AND TAKE
IN THIS EPHEMERAL EXISTENCE

OCCUPANCY: ONE AND SEVEN-BILLION

Leaning back on his stool with one elbow perched on the bar, he faces the patrons of the night. He stares at their faces, mimicking their expressions while he pretends to smoke a cigarette.

"What can I get ya honey?"

With one quick kick and a lift of his heels, he spins round to the bartender.

"Me? I don't need shit. I'm content."

He brings two fingers to his lips and fills his lungs with air.
Head tilted back, he opens his mouth, and with a few huffs he lets out three imaginary smoke rings.

The bartender unamused,

"Are ya waitin' on someone?"
"Nope. Just looking."
"Who ya lookin' for?"
"Me? No one." he says as he looks over his left shoulder, then right, then back at the bartender.
"Then what are ya here for?"

He points up to the maximum occupancy sign posted over a large mirror behind the bar.
Then studies his own reflection.

"I'm just a number lady. Taking up some space. That's all."

With the winters cold a smiling couple enters the bar, as trapped voices and music making up incoherent noise exit into the street.
He jerks his head to see the coming and going of it all.

"Don't they look miserable?"
"Who?" the bartender asked.
"All of'em."

He takes one last drag then taps his invisible cigarette out on the bar.
Looking, again towards the entrance.

"Are ya sure yer not lookin' for somebody?"

Pulling a very real pack of cigarettes from his chest pocket, he looks inside the box. It's empty.

"Only a couple left." he says out loud to himself.

He pretends to pull one from the pack and light it up.

"What was that?" he said with a constricted throat, as if to hold the smoke in his lungs.
"I said, Are ya sure you're not lookin' for someone? It's just, ya keep lookin' at the door like yer expectin' somebody."

He exhales,

"Everybody is looking for somebody in this place. Some for company. Others for love. Then theres the cats who see with carnal eyes, looking for something to fuck."
"What!"
"You know, like a one night stand. Yep, everybody in this place is looking for somebody. Anybody that will take them away from themselves."
"Is that what yer lookin' for? A one night stand?"
"Me? Fuck no!" he fakes another drag, "I'm just looking to stand one night. One more night with myself, alone."
"Honey, yer in the wrong place if yer lookin' to be alone."
"That ain't so. It's crowded places like these that a guy can get real good at being alone."
"Why would ya want to be alone?"

He leans in as if to tell a secret.

"Well shit! That's a good question. I guess I find that I am the most compatible, yet most combatable, person to myself. You see?"
"What's that suppose'da mean?"
"It means that I prefer to converse amongst myself. Within. I find it helps to cut out all the bullshit. You know, like introductions, ice breakers, and all that mindless talk that follows. Not to fail to mention all the listening. I can't stand to listen. By keeping my own company all interactions go as follows..."

He holds up a finger with each statement,

"If something's funny, not only do I get to here the joke, but I get to tell it. If there's an inner confrontation, no matter how many times I lose the fight, I win. You see, I've always got myself to challenge, encourage, protect, debate, comfort, and to keep company."
"Well yer talkin' to me now, ain't ya?"
"Nope! You may be asking questions, but I'm not answering you. I'm just reassuring myself out loud."
"Oh, is that what yer tellin' yerself?"
"Yep! Don't fool yourself lady. No matter how many people are in this place, no matter how many occupy this world, we are all here alone. Talking to ourselves."

He turns his back towards the bartender, once again placing his elbow on the bar.

"Well if ya ain't gonna buy a drink then I'm gonna have'da suggest you go be alone somewhere else."

He laughs,

"You know, ever since they passed that stupid law that says you can't smoke in the bars anymore, I haven't liked coming to these places much anyway. Really takes the joy out of a mans loneliness."

Standing up, he turns and puts out another invisible cigarette on the bar, then heads for the door.

"Why do you do that?"
"Me? Do what?" he looks back.
"Pretend to smoke like that!"

Now standing at the bar exit, he yells over a hundred conversations back to the bartender.

"Just going through the motions lady! Shit! Aren't we all?"

He then leaves the bar,
ALONE.