Downtown, sitting on the curb, Marlboro red hanging from my bottom lip, Jack Daniels in a brown paper sack gripped in my left hand. The town is dead except for the small, intoxicated crowd, outside this nightclub across the street. A fat man with a backwards ball cap, is one of those "angry drunk" types, starting shit with some shady figures off in the shadows. I believe as a child this fat man did not receive very much motherly love, and the kids at school called him "Porky" and "Beefy," which explains this drunken rage bottled up inside of him. He is about to get his ass kicked, stabbed, or shot. He is also heavily flirting with this Puerto Rican woman.

She is loud and obnoxious as well and has had most of her brains fucked out by every low life, swinging dick in this town. She even tried to fuck me one lonely night in a back alley behind a dumpster, but I did not submit. Last I heard, she got really fucked up one night on drugs and booze, broke into this mom-and-pop shop, took the cash register, and as she was making her way to escape, she passed out. A police officer was there to greet her the next morning when she awoke. She is about as ignorant as a Republican. However, if I am ever feeling frisky, desperate and in need of a cheap thrill, I'll definitely know who to turn to.

Tonight, it looks as though she is going to get some angry porky cock all up in her intestines.

I wonder if she has ever fucked a poet? Or at least sucked one off? Eh, who knows.

I decide to find a more secluded place in this town. I walk up and down, down and up, side to side, and upside down the side walk. Trapped within myself, as I am most of the time. I am a lab rat, running inside the clock like an exercise wheel, while the numbers rotate and laugh at me. Laugh their asses off at me. Conducting evil and disturbing experiments on me to keep me awake through the night. Sticking thumbtacks in my thighs, cutting Satanic symbols into my stomach, and so on and so forth.

The stoplights blink yellow, on and off. An occasional car drives by. An occasional voice in the distance. My heartbeat. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me as the a.m. grows thicker, the night becomes darker, and I become more delirious. As I observe the building tops, I imagine a crazed, enraged businessman yuppie type, hopping around the rooftops with a high powered sniper rifle. As a child, his stepfather touched him in the wrong places. His pee-pee and his poo hole. His over-protective mother pampered him fluffy. He married his High School sweetheart and got a very fine job at IBM. Later on down the road, he gets fired, his wife is fucking the milkman and leaves him, he becomes an emotional wreck, purchases a dirty magazine and a high-powered sniper rifle, and decides to vent his frustrations on the town. And who does he see, lined up in his cross hairs, staggering down the street in an almost psychotic trance? Me. "Shit."

I don't know. My poor brain manifests little detailed images such as these in this state of mind fuck.

I wonder back down the same street near the nightclub. Most of the crowd has vanished. A couple shady figures still lurk about the shadows. Suddenly, I feel this hand grab my arm from behind. I am startled, and I turn around quickly. It is only the Puerto Rican woman.

"Have you seen my daughter? She is 5 years old, a little Puerto Rican girl?" She says. Her breath smelled of beer, vomit and cock. She seems a bit concerned about her daughter's well being.

"Your 5 year old daughter is hanging out with your drunk ass at this time of night?" I reply.

"Look, you're not my fucking priest...have you seen her?"

I point at some random direction. "Yea, she went that way." And she takes off down the street until she fades away in the darkness.

That is some pretty funny tragic gut wrenching shit right there. Oh my, this town is so beautiful. Ok, where's the nerdy IBM guy? He can blow my brains out any time now.