there’s this guy that lives across the
street from our new house
I think his name is john or tom or something
like that
he told me he had just gotten out of jail
for stealing a bicycle for crystal meth
sometimes late at night
I sit in the door and smoke a joint
while I listen to the bodeans or the pixies or
john lee hooker
he strolls out into the street
hoping I’ll let him hit the joint
with his shaky hands
I tell him
the guy I live with is crazy
seriously fucked up from that
Afghanistan war
“mother fucker, he’s ready to kill on a
dime. you don’t want to fuck with him.
son-of-a-bitch is a killer.”
I know this crank-head is still trying to
work it out in his head
how he’s gonna get into the cars parked
out front
I can’t stop him
he’s a crank-head
he can’t help it
but I tried to warn him.
J. Masuda © 2007