How much longer
can I get away with this?
Scribbling in notebooks
mornings of endless coffees
lost in half worlds of thought
looking out the window
at the security guys
standing 12 hours a day
sucking on cigs and thumbing
their phones.
How much longer
can I get away with this?
Henry Miller sits
framed on my desk
at his desk feet up
getting away with it
him in Santa Monica
me, under the volcano
Antigua, Guatemala.
There’s Brahms
coming out of the speaker
and the keyboard waits
like an obedient dog.
“I’ll get to the work tomorrow”
There’s more thoughts to
attend to
more dancing in my head
and I’m planning
my next novel – how novel!
How much longer
can I get away with this?
Walking through the world
like I own it.
Schleping from kitchen table
to poker table to excel tables
always hungover and
in love with
the mere fact I’m here
that I’m standing
with nothing really to do
except
get away with it.
