I Speak of Everything and Nothing At All

So I’m walking the dog I don’t have
Through the neighborhood of moss covered cobblestones
Drooping branches that want to tickle the pavement
Soft hills hiding my destination and
My mind’s all worked up
Thinking about how socioeconomic conditions
Are destroying the human experience
Economy and equality festering in America's head
And at every step in the Gucci boots I don’t own
Hitting the damp gray sidewalk
I wonder
What’s a dreamer like me doing in a world like this?

This as in Southeast Portland
Reed County or Hipster Nation 2009
Where Beat Poet Allen Ginsbergs read “Howl” at that hippie
College back in the day when The Beatles
Ruled the world and marijuana was mainstream
Where the greatest minds of my generation drink coffee
And drag themselves through the Caucasian streets
Looking for a trendy fix of fame or notoriety
And I ask myself
What’s a poet like me doing here?

Here in the Versace threads I'm not wearing
Here in a gentrified area that wants to hide in second hand clothes
Get high from tattoo ink or trip on cafe art
Without the shoulder to shoulder hustle of dense population
Without an unchecked urban sprawl expanding city limits
Leaving her to grow like a dream of sustainability
Without a clue to real multicultural zest
A whitewashed counterculture at every corner waiting for diversity
And I enter Safeway to buy a newspaper so I can get
Cash back in an increment within my budget
So I can do my laundry at some point in the near future
So I can experience unrequited love again in clean sheets
When what do I see on the cover of the Oregonian
But an airplane afloat in the Hudson River with passengers
Just chillin’ on the wing
And I exclaim to myself
What an experience!

So I head to downtown for a social visit in the Lamborghini I don’t drive
Hoping that some excitement will happen on the bus
Like in Speed where I'll have to take control of the vehicle filled with
Scarfed commuters with dry lips and fingerless gloves
Puffy jackets and hats of all shapes and sizes
Forgetting about the sociology of my life and submitting
To the naturalism of my surrounding
And I ponder to myself
What else would I be doing?

So I’m hugging Gabe goodbye after two cups of coffee and a joint at the Waterfront
And we had just talked about culture and how McDonald’s is now serving lattes
Marketing stupidity in commercials during Jeopardy
Fattening the world with its golden arches and McHeartattacks
And I want to remain in the embrace of his strong arms until time stops
Settle my nose into the nape of his neck and breath in his masculinity
And exhale my bliss into the atmosphere of longing
And his hand brushes down my shoulder as we part ways
He on the Yellow Line heading north
Me on the a bus to traverse the Willamette River heading east
And I feel at ease with our gentle farewell
Though I want to take him to the penthouse I don’t live in
I want to caress his cheek with the back of my hand
But I stop and I ask myself
What will he do for me
Besides capture my attention?

So I’m reading Toni Morrison on the way home from creating this memory
Reading about the dehumanization of Negroes through poverty
About a little black girl tearing apart a white baby doll
Wanting instead a large bowl of lilacs placed on her lap
While she listens to her father play the violin for Christmas
And I realize that I’m part of Oprah’s Book Club
Because Oprah became a concept all of a sudden
And I get a flashback of my freshman year in college when
An English professor of mine told me how Oprah will put her stamp
On Toni Morrison and then give away cars for her birthday
Next episode turning her more into a device rather than an actual person
When what do I see on the sidewalk approach me but a dog in a Burberry scarf
And I say between my chuckles
What the fuck?

I meditate on class differences for a moment only to burst out in laughter
Because I just said hello to a little dog in a Burberry scarf completely ignoring the owner
A man who spoiled an animal that eats its own shit
And I think
What a wonderful moment

Nothing can replace this.

So I’m drinking a real glass of shiraz at night
More real than the technology which has given humans a plethora of
Ways to communicate but has antiquated an actual house visit
More real than any of my aspirations that bubble and boil with every moment I live
More real than my poetry that keeps my sanity
Or other people's poetry that I either abhor or want to claim as my own
And I tell the world
What a way to keep me guessing.