When Pigeons Cry 2
for Prince pt 3
The little tricks
we’ve all taught ourselves
in order to get through the days
surrounded
by other people
when everything’s alone
the whole thing’s exhausting
chit chat
composed
of canned phrases:
How was your weekend?
Why didn’t anyone tell me Everyone Loves Raymond was cancelled?
I’m pretty sure it wasn’t cancelled
Larry says Ray Romano decided he’d made enough money so he ended the show
Oh well that makes sense
Is it supposed to rain?
It’s raining now
It is?
How do you know?
Really, well that’s nice
(showoff)
So how long have you
had a window?
and it just goes
on and on
and I just feel
like disappearing into
a far away corner
and taking up residence
performing nightly
at a dirt road bar
under the alias
DJ Lethargic
I’ll spend the work nights
spinning posthumously released
Prince records
high on pot cubes and
sipping club soda like Sam Malone
I’ll grow bangs
and write books about
Bigfoot
and sing songs about DVDs
until I meet you
and you meet me
like we’re supposed
to meet each other
whether you walk into my bar
and request a dead Prince song
I’m already seconds away from playing
or I walk into your bar
and find you humming something from the vault
that I’ve never heard before
either way/ergo/however it happens
we’ll have met/will meet
and after this meeting
we can finally shake off this shaky crowd
and go back to my place and
watch Independence Day until we damn near puke-laugh
and make Prince sounds
between a stacked bookshelf
and a sleeping bag
above the bar
in a triangular
shaped
room
Multiverse Johnson 