Venice Poem

By: LC

I can’t keep track of all this—the prairie checkered cloth dress my great grandmother may have worn

But the sales clerk at the Animal House tells me it was Dr. Quinns

She was a superb medicine woman

Saving lives, it makes me grateful, they’ve had to save mine a thousand times over.

“I’m here to entertain. I need a job. Stay in school kids.”

School’s important, yeah, but living is what makes me learn, even if you’re walking on glass

Venice beach is full of the intelligent: the world’s greatest wino and cardboard scraps stating I bet you a $1.00 you just read this sign

I can’t keep track of all this—walking down this boulevard you learn every aspect of life, from the Paris Hilton wannabes to the blonde dreadhead that speaks of getting her heroin from Venezuela in front of her five and three year old boys. Poor kids, it’s going to be rough

Flashes of color and movement and someone almost running into me and where did everyone go now?

I can’t keep track of all this—I’ve been here before and Venice, it never changes

Time to get lost in the crowd, lose touch with all

I don’t think I can ever get to know this place unless I sit still on the walls and watch

A silent vigil, keeping an eye over all, seeing what this world is about

I’m getting to know more than I’d care to, I can’t keep track of all this

Here it is again, the distraction, the fear that it’s coming back and I won’t be

I just couldn’t shake it off, I felt the change coming,

And hey I was right, hasn’t there been a vacant spot somewhere?

I’m going to be back and I’m going to talk to the world’s greatest wino this time and run into the water and praise the sun for shining down on me and even if it burns my pale skin it’s a burn I welcome and I love because it means I am alive

I might not be back yet but I plan to be soon, an escape from blood exchanges and how in the world can that mother use heroin, I’m learning to hate needles with every blood test they do

Just cringe and suck it up to make everything better again

Flashes of red, sterile walls, this is getting much too morbid for my taste and I’m going to blame the medication, that’s always a fun excuse

The silent vigil, filled with prayers, the melting candles, wax spilling across the floor

Flashback. In Venice again. It’s craziness but it’s happiness and it’s where I want to be.