Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing


his name was arizona
and hers was renee
i was 16
he drove
i pointed the way
it was the day i smoked my first joint
before The Smashing Pumpkins concert
in shitty little hara arena in dayton
just far enough from cincinnati
to feel free
before billy corgan was overexposed
as an anti-darling
a media unfriendly jerkoff
if i close my eyes
i can still see and smell
the throbbing waves of
5,000 screaming-eyed organelles
in an angst filled cell
my creamy lace baby doll dress
black fishnet stockings
and mary janes
the way i floated on a siamese dream
pulling rocket ships from a starry sky
on a sea of sweaty grunge kid hands
all the way down
from the nose bleed seats
to the pounding punk ground

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