FLIP OF THE COIN

The Indian woman

was beautiful but scarred.

Pulled a knife on me

after we

had a hot night of rollin’ love.

I ran down the hall

holding onto my pants

and it was so late at night.

She was

my crib for the night

now nowhere to go.

I walked aways

and found

an open door to a building.

I dragged

my ass under the steps

and slept there

the remainder of the night.

My life

was nested under many steps

and many rooftops

did Central Park

in the thick bushes too.

Man, I almost fell in love

with the Indian girl

but something

goes static in the brain

and she was

seeing roaches on the wall.

How does and old man

live

in the body of time and space

like he

did when he was young?

I took chances

I took leaps

and bounds, never worried.

Cosmically connected

I always

ate a meal and had shelter.

One day I won’t be able

to lift

a slice of bread to my mouth, and

how will anyone know what I did?

The great poems.

The great paintings.

The most beautiful women.

Shit- life sucks

an egg when you get old.

Never put a value on age.

I can still

flip a coin and win sometimes.