CEREAL AFTER SEX

Stories of everything and nothing else

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    I didn’t see her standing there as I was pushing the apple cart. Then I heard her make a terrible noise. Something akin to a woman falling down the escalator at a mall in Nashville. It wasn’t really a scream; it was more like an exaggerated moan. Agghhhoooh, umph.

    “Stop!” someone yelled. “You hit her!”

    And there she was, sprawled out on the floor of the grocery store, groaning in pain. A crowd gathered. Fierce eyes crawled all over me. “You should be more careful,” someone snapped.

    I panicked. I didn’t know what to do, so I ran to find a manager. “I hit someone with an apple cart,” I said.

    “You did what?”

    “She’s really hurt. She’s lying on the floor by the wine.”

    “Is she whining?” the manager joked.

    “This isn’t funny, sir. She could die.”


    The ambulance came and they lifted her up onto a gurney and wheeled her out of the store. I followed them over to the hospital. I sat in the ER waiting area. A pharmacy tech doing med rec came over to me and said the woman wanted to see me.

    “Me?”

    “Yes. She seems pretty pissed off.”

    I went into the small room and there she was lying on a bed with a forearm draped across her forehead.

    “You wanted to see me, mam?”

    She pointed a crooked finger at me and in a strained voice said, “You bastard. Look what you did to me with your apple cart. I’m going to be crippled now and it’s all your fault. Why couldn’t you have just watched where you were going? You shouldn’t have stacked your boxes so high.”

    “I’m sorry, mam.”

    “Sorry? You’ll be sorry when I sue your ass.”

    “Well, I’d like to see you try,” I said to her. “And besides, you should have gotten out of my fucking way.”

    “How dare you! Don’t blame me for your incompetence.”

    I laughed. “And you’d make any man impotent. You’re so old and gross.”

    “Nurse!” she screamed out.

    “Shut up you old hag!”

    “You’re a terrible, terrible person. You should be in prison.”

    “And you should be in a funeral parlor.”

    “Well, you almost saw to that, didn’t you,” she scolded.

    “And maybe now I should finish the job.”

    I grabbed a pillow and held it above her face. And as I was about to smother her, something suddenly hit me. What am I doing? I’m about to murder someone. That’s not cool.

    I threw the pillow aside and walked out of the room. I wandered around the long shiny hallways of the hospital for a while. Then I smelled food and went to the cafeteria. I got a fish sandwich, coleslaw, and a chocolate milk. I sat at a table by the window. I looked out at the city rushing by. I took a deep breath and wondered, how did I get here?

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    I ate a pre-made salad in the breakroom yesterday

    It was quiet at first

    But then the numbnuts started rolling in

    Youthful oblivion

    The complaining old

    People about to burst

    People who just can’t shut up

    About Dungeons and Dragons

    Artificial girlfriends

    Horror movies

    Misinformed politics

    The bosses

    The company…

    Most of the time I regret having my lunch in the breakroom. My day is usually chaotic enough as it is. I should just go outside and sit in the cold, alone, and face the reality of 2025 life. Madness. Walking cuckoo clocks all set to high noon. Watching the neon sprays of capitalistic goading. People driving cars like the world is invisible. Moaning mornings and exhausted nights. Loud talking about nothing. Empty opinions. Slamming doors. Phone firing off. Customers whining about grapes… The endless endless. Serenity salad now!

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    I hate cabbage but I like sauerkraut

    I hate tomatoes but I like pasta sauce

    I hate onions but I don’t mind crispy onion strings on my Western Burger from a local burger joint with a name I suddenly cannot recall

    I hate chunky guacamole, but yeah, I just hate guacamole

    Even guacamole from Guadalajara

    The thought of chunky guacamole turns my stomach

    Just regular guacamole makes me want to puke

    But then mix in onions and tomatoes and other garbage of some sort

    How can people eat that?

    I’d rather eat a plateful of garbage topped with tree bark

    The things people put in their mouths…

    Just watch a fancy cooking show

    They got to put onions on everything

    Gross

    The world is just wrong

    I want plain food, not crap

    Strange thoughts this morning

    I had weird dreams

    It’s cold outside

    I’m running out of time…

    A slave to the paycheck

    Selling my life away on the cheap

    I should be at the Admiral Hotel in Bergen

    Having breafast

    Having hope for a better world

    But no

    I was born into this twisted system

    An Anunnaki worker

    Always on the run

    Chasing the unimportant

    Denying the important

    Wake up, drive, be used

    Until there is nothing left

    Then they move onto the next, next, next…

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    A white farmhouse in a Texas field

    A green screen door opens

    The spring makes that sound of stretching

    Then it slams, that sound of slamming

    A lifeless two-lane highway runs by it

    The windows upstairs look down upon it

    There, a thick tree with a worn tire swing

    Miles of flat all around

    No hills

    Dirt, sun

    A warm ticking in the guts

    The belly of the house is still

    There’s the air of time passed

    A machine of 10,000 years

    Going forward, going back

    A green couch

    A wood-burning stove

    Memories smoke

    The fissures in time reveal

    People not there but still walking

    The man upstairs in the bed looks at the window

    A lone semi rolls by

    The last rays of sun splatter loneliness

    The radio comes on

    Old music

    The man in the bed ponders Heaven

    And now he knows he has dreamt this very moment

    He can see the future

    Like a movie in his sleeping head

    Victrola stitches and lamp oil

    No electricity, save for that in his hands

    He can set fire to the doldrums if he so chooses

    Dying God

    Dying angel

    Dying ancient man

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    And I awake with an itching in my soul

    Barbells of thought weighing me down

    And then I get overwhelmed

    And the panic sets in

    Dry mouth, racing heart

    Worry climbs a mountain

    I just want to live free of all the shit

    What is this world and where exactly is it?

    I know it is merely a speck on a star map

    Interplanetary breeding

    A colony for the criminally insane

    Black hearts rule

    Hoisted into position by ignorant fools

    Why must I awake and run, run, run

    Just a brick in a wall

    Another cog in the corporate machine

    Why can’t I just do what I want to do?

    Why can’t we just be left alone to our own whims and wishes?

    The wages of sin are sinful wages

    I want to have breakfast in Bergen

    With a warm woman by my side

    And go to the countryside by the ocean

    To breathe and feel like we were meant to

    To not be a poor waste of a life

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    Those bad mojo memories

    Coming back to foil and kick

    A decent day turned down low

    Shadow records play in the dusk-lined room

    One lonely bed, one lonely chair, one lonely window

    Views of the widows on the walk

    Black dresses and veils

    Black roses, black nails

    Thinking about the dark side of the moon

    And all that goes on there

    The alien architecture

    Mind-blowing our own

    Like this sad skin ensconced in velvet

    Super-highway brain through the guardrail

    Over the cliff

    Into the rocks

    Fireball

    I mutter madness and everyone stares

    I walk into a room, and everyone laughs

    I choke on my own thoughts

    Word salad

    I trace the odd patterns of my life

    The spills upon the atlas

    Journeys and slaveries

    The people, the pain, the pardons

    I could have never been

    What I wanted to be

    Back then

    Those muddled visions

    Of architect, engineer, wanderer, ghost

    My mind would never have allowed me to make it through

    I would have been derailed in the very beginning

    I never had a normal purpose

    I will always be somewhere else

    Up here, over there

    A collection of handcrafted obstacles

    As I ricochet from path to path

    Like a spinning diamond cutting stone

    Fragments littering this ethereal Earth

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    Time evaporates like water in Death Valley

    Saturday sweaters feel good in cold winter houses

    A man looks out the large picture window in the living room

    The streets are still save for one lone kid tramping through the snow

    He looks up to the sky, stretches his arms out

    And begins to fly

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  • A Tennessee moon dangled in the sky at dusk-plus tonight, casting glows across the heavens and Earth.

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    Sun on crinkled golden leaves

    The grass is lemon-yellow

    The sky is pure blue

    I can’t believe it is November

    October hid and dashed away

    Thanksgiving will soon make its way to the table

    And the pilgrims will carve up turkeys with axes

    And one of them might get a little crazy

    Someone spiked his cranberry juice

    And Pilgrim No. 1 hollers a death cry

    Like some crazed Capitol Hill crasher

    And Bill Bixby is sitting out in the woods

    He senses something is going terribly wrong

    Screaming pilgrims come streaming out of the picturesque white farmhouse

    Pilgrim No. 1 in chase

    Hollering like a madman with axe overhead

    Then an arrow pierces his chest

    Right at the point of his heart

    A Native American on a hill

    Has strung his bow and fired

    And the pilgrims stop running and worship him

    And he looks down upon them and speaks

    “Go back to where you came from.”

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    Embers remember the coach light

    And there, a pale December sun

    Beckons the black birds to rise

    To carry a crown to the new winter king

    A pin drop calls his name

    The lands are that quiet

    The restless spirits that roam the hills and valleys

    Take cautious steps from the other side

    Wishing wells glow to light their way

    Toward another endless and wandering day

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