sitting at vino's friday night

- sitting at vino's friday night drinking black coffee, nerves get tight. laughter release eases & i thought as they past in rows in lines in aisles and  kwines "...that we could all look the same as we moshed in a pit of needles,  ink and knives..." --who were these many a'scarr'ed souls(?) passing so inanely, --their asinine insipids dripping a queer "generation x, y, z"  "working class" liquid hands pocketed, smiles awry there was a full moon tonight in the bustling movement of this warehous'ed  brick'ed wikked wild place, (i)  whispered across the (proverbial) table to oblivious ears  (numb eyes) i whispered, 'what are we doing inside?'   -- out to the moon should we be... an indifferent,  disinterested "why(?)"  was the reply     --for out to the moon we should cry  (say'eth  i) we should howl, and make our presence known to mein dear luna, who will spread our message with morse code,  with passing wax and wan...     across the milky way's many a'starr'ed plain --oR shall we sit pick and fingernails nicely seated stay?  as to set us watchers apart from those giving the show, those passing by.?. in their long hair sovereignty   --shall our skin tear like cloth's catching snag and leak nothing aside a clear fragrant mellow fluid, a saccharine syrupy, late nectar to coat our bodies entwining and fusing to "inanimate objects"   napkin dispenser!  at our many  a'fork'ed  meal merged spine table leg mesh with teenaged flesh i'll lone you my toes and borrow your patience as we coalesce     heap of skin and "man made"s we coo absurdly to the [people] who still pass \\\\   we can';t help it, ourr lungs are at an angle, we breathe loudly monstrous            and gargle.. ] some blue collar come and [pour "refill" "coffee" grunt grunt ,.. looks with cool disdain and dresses accordingly.   here you appreciate it. we tip with broken toenails,..   acceepted  accepted  more than visa, mastercard, gargle, discover...     we are unnoticed as we disassemble, i am quaint "social anxiety" staring off in space as you say, "time to go"   we could end, but in truth it never does.. (i) wonder as we make our way to the door,         will you encapsulate in your synthetic,                     and settle for dancing under streetlights                           when you can't see the moon? - Written December 14th, 2001 © on Dec 14 2001 01:47 PM PST   10 • 0