signal widely comprehended on cement: get me. The light can
catch someone’s eye so you have to walk like Zen himself,
walk and not walk, you are a master in the urban Olym pics for
girls, an athlete o f girlish survival, it’s a survival game for the
w orld’s best. You get past them and you celebrate, you
celebrate in your heart, you thank the Lord, in your heart you
say a prayer o f gratitude and forgiveness, you forgive Him,
it’s sincere, and you hope He don’t take it as a challenge,
razor-sharp temper He’s got, no do unto others for Him; and if
you hear someone behind you you beg, in half a second you
are on your knees in your heart begging Him to let you off,
you promise a humility this time that will last, it will begin
right now and last a long, long time, you promise no more
liturgical sacrilege, and your prayer stops and your heart stops
and you wait and the most jo you s sound on G o d ’s earth is that
the man’s feet just stomp by. Either he will hurt you or he will
not; either He will hurt you or He will not. Truth’s so simple
and so severe, you don’t be stupid enough to embellish it. I
m yself live inside now. I don’t take m y chances resting only in
the arms o f God. I put m yself inside four walls and then I let
Him rock me, rock me, baby, rock me. I lived outside a lot;
and this last summer I was tired, disoriented. I was too tired,
really, to find a bed, too nervous, maybe too old, maybe I got
old, it happens pretty fast past eighteen like they always
warned; get yourself one boy when yo u ’re eighteen and get
yourself one bed. It got on m y nerves to think about it every
night, I don’t really like to be in a bed per se. I stayed in the lot
behind where the police park their cars, there’s a big, big dirt
lot, there’s a fence behind the police cars and then there’s
empty dirt, trash, some rats, we made fires, there’s broken
glass, there’s liquor to stay warm , I never once saw what it
was, it’s bottles in bags with hands on the bags that tilt in your
direction, new love, anti-genital love, polymorphous perverse, a bottle in a bag. Y o u got to lift your skirt sometimes but it doesn’t matter and I have sores on me, m y legs is so dirty
I just really don’t look. Y ou don’t have to look. There’s many
mirrors to be used but you need not use them. I got too worn
out to find some bed each new night, it got on m y nerves so I
was edgy and anxious in anticipation, a dread that it would be
hard to find or hard to stay or hard to pay, if I just stayed on the
dirt lot I didn’t have to w orry so much, there’s nothing
trapping you in. Life’s a long, quiet rumble, and you ju st shake
as even as you can so you don’t get too worn out. When I lifted
up m y skirt there was blood and dirt in drips, all dried, down
m y legs, and I had sores. I felt quiet inside. I felt okay. I didn’t
w orry too much. I didn’t go see movies or go on dates. I just
curled up to sleep and I’d drink whatever there was that
someone give me because there’s generous men too; I see
saliva; I see it close up; i f I was an artist I would paint it except I
