Paranoid

it wasn't long before they, we, figured out multiple scams
check dipping, counterfeit bills, prescription fraud,
hacking computers to gain access to bank accounts,
low budget backwoods grocery store hold ups, miles away, towns away..
thievery from one person, passed on to the next,
free food, free money, risks taken, rewards granted, in short sprees
long droughts, luck & the hands in ones life- come in waves
watch for the ones that break on shores between the ghetto howls
what side the brain of too many fiends tossing that turning
just perfectly place the pillow of equilibrium next to your toes in the sand, no further passed, no less in front,
it all seemed so low level at first, like a distant song
pharmacy dumpster divers with already known names, unfamiliar faces,
maybe down the road with the smell of hotdogs grilling,
twitchy hands, perfect poker face,
a sunny cold Michigan day, a faint hint of youth blocked out,
as the poor kids run around dad's barbecue…
& isn't he a king, a king in his own psychotic mind
sleep a thing of one's past
the oily gutters of white & every breath is an icicle
with the morning salt sprayer man in big machine
eyeing my insomniac eyeballs..
out a dusty curtain of un paid rent. maybe he wasn't eyeing
that's the paranoia of everything after what I saw & lived
hazy heroin speed jerk whisky induced dreamland
plain & simple check deposit for a smile
that never lasted past the next hit or bust
the knock on one's internal circling door
They're all dead now, or prison lifers, rehabilitated maybe,
& I sit here thinking, where does that leave me
forced to work the 9 to 5, cut that hair, act the part, be broke,
where did all the smiles go in such a short time
scams grow harder & one's mind & body grows older
begin to melt into the memories
of dreams within life force radiation memories
almost gone, almost taking clues without any more hints
it wasn't long before we had money dripping from our pockets
it wasn't long before this, we were just dumb kids, with nothing to lose,
but our lives, but all out friends,
graveyard scented candles in snow-white fiends among slumlord
shadows of tears no one caught
the knocked over head stones, sit with green moss on them
for a second, I thought I saw
that distant smile, but you were already gone, lost in scams, names forgotten, memories ringing like frozen erasers,
found in temporary fixes
that fixed nothing,
under them darkened light filled chalkboards…….
Dea fingerprints on un paid rent door. Time to move,
they worked for the salt blowers , im positive of it, in them
big slicked up greasy machines that tried to melt snow, the moneymakers,
big wigs with sneaky tactics, the movers, shakers…
it's the fukin mailman, milkman, your lover, mother, god, father, boss, shrink, doctor, dentist, news anchorman, poet, the kid next door,
don't trust any of them. Just keep an eye out..

This poem Copyright 2001 Nicholas Morgan.

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