When Pigeons Cry 2

sex shooter

When Pigeons Cry 2

for Prince pt 3


The little tricks

we’ve all taught ourselves

in order to get through the days


by other people

when everything’s alone


the whole thing’s exhausting

chit chat


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


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


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



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