Scott Allen Davis For Christmas

have you ever seen a dry rain?
neither have i
notice how things are darker when they're wet
what kind of humor is this?
shake my hand and say goodbye
look me in the eyes
your hands are shaking
what's that all about?
she said, "i'll call you later"
and then she never did
my sleeping bag is missing
my telephone is overflowing with emptiness
and hey - ! i've got a cigarette in my hand
and cash in my pocket

the asphalt is glistening
there is no color to the sky
the air looks like what comes out
of my mouth when i exhale
purple and gold and blue pass by
and then something small
that is red
black things go round and round
brown things stop dead in their tracks

the pigeons in the alleys
don't even notice me
they move aside as an afterthought
every here and there
is something bright and shiny
that'll be thirty-seven cents, please
and thanks

this is what nature is doing right now
how much of that can you fit
into your bag
just enough?
okay, we'll see
you think this is some kind of joke?
very funny
yeah, it's disposable

every time you hang up on me
we stop talking
see how that works?
do you?
it moves forward while it's not
moving at all
the molecules now in my brain
they have something to say about all this
and they just can't find the
word for it
steam rises and tears fall
nothing rhymes with this
so there you are
see how nicely that fits?
black things shiny things going round and round
a man dressed in brown standing under a
cypress tree to avoid the rain
it goes just like that

when the water bounces off the pavement
it's almost like it wants to
return to the sky
it has a wet voice
and you should hear the things it whispers

it carries walt whitman in its backpack
it has a fucking headache and its
legs are tired
it has sympathy for the birds that are
cold and wet
it talks to itself and you can't hear
what is being said
because these are secret words

yesterday i got scott allen davis for christmas
he was hiding out in an alley and he
didn't want anyone to look at him
eyes averted silent sweat and loneliness
he grunted once or twice
something about
summertime
hush little baby - don't you cry

you think what comes out when i exhale is something
you should see what i inhale
it's tasty and it's life
full and rich
exhaust fumes and farts
deadly trails holes broken pieces
rainbows seen through squinty eyed
shadows