to-do list for when i finally get some time to run some pinche errands w/o being distracted by u

□   cotton candy grapes from the bougie spot on 35th

□   spam, 3 cans

□   a dead Dyke’s dickies

□   Dead Kennedys Live vhs tape from Long Haul

□   a six of pacifico cuz I can’t find dos xx’s in the bay

□   pack of Kools from the liquor that still sells menthols for when Serendipity visits

□   Banana Ketchup

□   Tapatio

□   Twelve pack of ennui, three times the legal limit

□   every zine at Medicine for Nightmares

□   another stack of empty journals to gather dust

□   Arthur Russell’s lost yoga mat

□   Hello Kitty band-aids for my self-mutilated fingertips

□   finally pick up the meds I stopped taking

□   some cardboard boxes from behind the Groce Out to ship all my shit back home

□   dull scissors to clip my leather wings

□   a powder blue charro suit for the funeral

□   a pin that says “I ♥ San Francisco” on it;

□   flick the pin off the Oakland-Bay Bridge with a cigarette

□   sigh in Los Angeles

□   jump

alder

saw me in half and

count the rings at the center

of my belly.

an ailment from the generations before me,

at the core.

tracking every love induced illness,

distinct in each ring,

illusions of safety cloaked

in the guise of stability.

birthing children for men

that nurse cervezas

while nestled in the arms of faceless

lovers, and only come home to

pay the rent or raise a belt.

a curse that ends with Me.

Blue Flower by Mazzy Star plays at 11:11 PM

Superstar in your own private movie

I wanted just a minor part

but I’m no fool

I know you’re cool

I never really wanted your heart

i agree to play tourist guide

but i think i’ve seen this flick before

on another drunken cyclone from Spec’s to Eli’s

crack open a 4 dollar 40 oz on the transamerica pyramid

swirl around the last dregs of Hope

in a line Destiny desperately delivers through you

the constellations in the night

fractured in the obsidian of your eye

align with the constellation of hickies on my neck

you see i am a marked man

i accept i’ve become my father again

you hand me your heart before you tell me your name

i place it besides the door with your dull doc marten boots

when you see me in a dim enough light

you can see the emotional avoidant

bruised into my skin

you see me in a dim enough light

and insist on adding to the script written

before you walked in

i have to shut my eyes to hold you

because you and her have the same face in the dark

and i wonder why

all water signs gotta look like that

Trans Folk Have the Right to Live Long, Messy Lives For Mercedez-Alexiz Angel Romero

you bitch

always the fucking victim

what? you didn’t wanna feel the sun no more?

the star light was too painful?

the moon shifted away one too many times?

we were just some SoCal kids

screaming Fuck Ginsberg

while running from North Beach

to catch the last BART to the Mission

so we could plant poems on the hills of Dolores

and laugh and cry and wax on freedom

while eating Krispy Krunchy Chicken

and Kimchi Quesadillas on your bedroom floor

you were flaming in rage

engulfed by insecurity and pain

i was submerged and drowning

in a bottle of my own survival

then you took advantage of my drunken mind

tried to get me crucified

for something pinche judas jessica did

shoved me so hard when i tried to check in on you

that the Earth's axis tilted

closer to the sun

you just wanted everyone to burn and burn and smolder with you

now i'm stumbling down Sunset

begging any body

to tell me it was just an accident

as i imagine maintaining the curl in your hair

became a tangled trap

and your intricate make up

turned into a complicated map

of all the beautiful places in San Pancho

that held too much hurt

leading back to Oxnard

now what do we do?

like i haven't thought about trying

to find freedom in oblivion again

like adding to the list of Trancestors

wasn't the ultimate temptation

what the fuck is all this new pressure to survive?

you bitch, you know what i'll do?

i'll rename the Manzanita Trees after you

because they flourish after the rage of fires

and i'll plant a million acre forest in your image,

i'll gouge and rip at the sky

construct a new Mercedez constellation

in conjunction to Gemini and Venus,

and i'll immortalize you in this fucking poem

as a final fuck you

for going out that way