Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

being a metropolitan and a flâneur of sorts
i took it upon myself to perambulate environs
beyond the scope and sway of the tawdry milieu
of which i am both a denizen and habitué
so i jumped on the old #22 to mondawmin
and then jumped back off in charles village
but then!
inspiration kicked me squarely in the balls
i decided to hang a right at charles
and saunter through the cozy idylls of guilford
guilford - the old preserve, the white bastion
where blood is blue and no you know who!
i was shocked to see a greek and a black guy
the greek was me, but it was still surprising - even to me
the black guy was carrying a vacuum cleaner
i think, i guess it was his - but the neighbors
seemed to harbor some doubts, but then
another black guy showed up - a cop
he asked the other black for his i.d.
and as he pulled out his wallet, a vial
fell to the sidewalk and little white rocks tumbled out
that's not good, i thought to myself
so i split and headed over to wyman park
to the bench by the wall that borders art museum drive
and i filled my pipe with the good shit
and pondered, i'd take a hit and then ponder
then i'd ponder and then take another hit
then i started pondering as i was wandering
and ended up on this trail that runs along the stream
that meanders through wyman and separates
hampden from charles village sort of
anyway, i'm walking this trail and this girl was coming
from the other direction, she was in her twenties
and sort of artsy looking, but not in a pretentious way
she seemed like maybe she had been an art student
but hampden sort of proletarianized her, whittling
her down to street level - i like that!
and i smiled at her and said:
hi!
and she smiled back with a smile that said:
i don't think he's a threat, he looks like an artsy type
sort of like thoreau - only seedier
i'm going to smile back and hope he isn't a freak
after that brief, but strangely exhilarating interlude
i came upon this little tower topped by a manhole
it looked like one of those air vents from the time machine
the ones that rod taylor and the eloi used
to enter the underground industrial complex of the blue-
skinned morlocks who were terrorizing the effeminate blond
flower patsies that were living like atrophied hippies
in the upper-world idylls of london 10,000 years in the future
sort of like guilford where the blood is blue and no you know who!
but, and here's the ironic kicker
the morlocks' blood was blue, but they weren't living in guilford
they were living under guilford, in the bowels of the earth
turning bolts and pushing levers like blue-
skinned grease monkeys, anyway
i climb up the 4 ft. mini-tower and sit like tonto
on the manhole cover and break out the shit again
i'd ponder and then take a draw and then i'd take another long pull
and ponder again, meanwhile
the girl was back!
only this time from the opposite direction, she
came around the bend and i thought to myself:
boy i'm glad that i wasn't talking to myself
or scratching my ass or maybe something even worse
we did the smile thing and she disappeared
into the green beyond, she had red tennis shoes
jeans and a white t-shirt - pretty classy
in an unassuming way, the t-shirt had a dingy look
like it needed clorox or something, but somehow
on her it was most effective

Ha Ha! I like this.
Really that effective ending, too.

gawd, it's good to hear from you - it's been a long time. no?

Yes it has, where have you been, mr.
I'm glad you're back to your booth here in our fun, talented coffee shoppe.
Missed ya here.