“A Slow Trip from the Heart of the Earth” (2019)

I took a slow trip from the heart of the Earth to a place that doesn’t exist;
I moved through a million seasons and songs, burning oceans,
and cold streets decorated with puddles of broken glass
and the disintegrating men who stand on street corners, shouting,

“graveyard, graveyard, this here’s the graveyard!
Get your fresh graveyards here, only $15.99, that’s right!
Everybody needs a graveyard, ’cause everybody dies!
Tomorrow morning, it could be you.”

I always wanted to be on the run, or on the road,
depending on how the story is heard.
I wanted to be completely alone, except for the people I cared about,
who I might’ve seen passing through, in a small cafe, a pizza shop,

or the side of the road, next to the bus station;
it’s a cold Christmas Eve, here on the westernmost edge of Manhattan,
the sun buried under the Hudson River till morning,
which feels like forever.

But it’s warm over here, in the skylight diner;
we eat corned beef hash, drink black coffee,
and stare into each others’ eyes.

The peculiar electrical charge that often lies dormant in your heart
invites me to know its true nature,
before scurrying from my sight in shock
as a disintegrating man bursts through the door, screaming

“love! Love! Love! Love! What is it really?
Every last one of yous is a product of love,
that’s amore, the moon hit your eye but it felt like a kiss,
the sperm hit the egg, while the other guy missed;
that’s what it’s all about.

Did you know millions of Americans die every year,
due to chronic love deficiency?
And you, my dear listener, have got to be
one of the loneliest motherfuckers on the planet
tuning in at this hour, on Christmas Eve of all nights.

So call right now, you filthy degenerate,
or tomorrow morning, it could be you.”

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