THE LONG SIDEWALK GOOD BYE - Poem Noir.

Just above my spot on the sidewalk, held up in another run down hotel room, my past was jabbing at me again....as it had everyday since she left.

"I miss my wife, I miss my wife," would spew from my mouth uncontrolably every now and again and at least once a day....for 7 years.

mental scar hiccups

nagging shame.

but not as bad as it used to be. shortly after she left state and took the kids, i would wander around New Orleans with outbursts of frequent screams and sobbing.

i couldn´t leave the city because anywhere else the police would have taken me away.

the fifth of wiskey a day did little back then. so at nite after the fifth i´d go out drinking.

even travelers have a home, for me it´s cheap hotels that let you smoke.

it´s a never ending search for a spot on the sidewalk and a hotel that´ll let you smoke.

sometimes days and nites sleeping on buses and trains searching.

sometimes a good spot but no cheap hotel.

sometimes cheap hotels, but they wont let you work the spot. so back on the bus to another city so i can sleep on the bus.

it´s a gamble.

in the winter a thick tuff suit jacket and fedora, cargo pants and slip on sneakers....not white ever.

in the summer cargo capris, sandal flip flops and a vest i make out of a suit jacket. after the winter the fedora has usually thinned out enough for the summer heat.

i buy as i go, i don´t lug. one bag is all i need. holds my rig and personals.

working outta the pockets, slight of hand is the gimmick for the quick ten minute show, for the curious or those with time to kill, ten fifteen minutes then the hat is passed. usually the first show is just less then the price of a room.

4 or 5 shows could get me through the day. but if i can, i work all day to forget my problems.

in the states i would prefer to live outta my van. driving hundreds of miles, from pitch to pitch.

truck stops with cheap private showers in the morning and cup of tea.

i come from a long line of sidewalk shifty eyed losers. when i´m in a crowd, i´m the one who looks like trouble from your grandpa´s past....maybe your great grandpa´s, maybe worse.

i remember when i was younger, lookin at old guys like that downtown and thinkin, "that`s what i´ll be"...well here i am.

for us it´s hard now, private property regulations, and less foot traffic in the states....and the spots in europe are closing up.

cops, shops, and bad guys are the set backs to the job.

cops and shops wanna shut you down and the bad guys are looking to take what they saw you make.

so on my back i stare at the cheap neon lite on the ceiling of my room.

it´s lonely, but it´s less trouble then a woman..
.
.
.