Solo for Dennis Hopper
Light everlasting! Jacked-up on a century’s backwash, knee-deep
in it. The Cambodia of their dreams lay on a dirty mattress,
amputated at the hips. A whole nation could bury its heartbreaks there
& never know they existed – the pictures don’t prove anything.
You think there’s something behind the door, an ear listening
to the conversation in your head – like flies in a room.
The Sandman mimes into a lampshade. He’s a genius.
All this you can have for free – the rest is priceless, like
vaseline in outer-space. I’m only dancing, the radio complains.
It’s bleak out there: only a disappointed psychopath
could’ve created such a place & call it… But the name got lost
when they put the bypass in – Straight to Heaven, on the big neon sign.
Man, now she’s suckin’ diesel. Grinning into the hand-held & saying
for a few dollars more you can go all the way to California.
Unsanitary, or: The Candy-Coloured Clown
1 November 2014