December 2, 2021:

All the struggles.
All the wars, the deaths, the murders.
All the illusions of progress.
All the paintings. All the books. All the poems and the songs and the movies.
All the weddings. All the funerals.
All the love and all the babies.
All the promises.
All the illusions of progress.
All for nothing. All for naught.

Because we lost.
Because we failed.

The old Socialists said: Socialism or Barbarism.
They were wrong. The reality was: Socialism or the end of all life on the planet.


Downpressor man
Where you gonna run to
All along that day

December 1, 2021:

Tomcats and Top Gun.

We're on the roof, two boys and the binoculars I bought with True Value stamps.

In summer the canyon is dry and smells it. Most days the air is clear enough that with our binocs we can watch F-14s at Miramar.

November 30, 2021:

Election night, Woodland Hills. Over beers and sex on a nine foot bed we watch the world's disaster begin.

Monty Python, Neil Young, weed, tortillas, sex. The one lover who was ever my peer. Who taught the important things it took a later lifetime to internalize.

When would I ever have been ready?