mad air

soldiers stealing so slaves can save
& tell half of the creator that you can still behave.

pay attention: large print on large tit
shouting at the boys across the street;
"baby if you can't take the heat"
get to the kitchen, savor, and whet it.

too young to not have messy hair,
kicking pebbles--trying to get mad air.

flag down the taxi because walking that stoned
in this city can give you a head ache.
back seat, sticking leather on thighs, break
from all the smoke in my mouth tasting like home.

soldiers scrapping journals so wives can praise
their work. i'm busy trying to recall
the exact address of that 'home' hall
while the driver is bitching about wanting a raise. 

'take a left just past here.'
he can't hear.
i'm probably unclear.
'pull over, we're pretty near.'

tossing twenties for a seven ninety fare,
dying diva on the corner of the charts
whose library SAT prep is covered in doodle hearts.
i'm not kicking pebbles--still such mad air.