Saturday november two thousand nine special

Nonfiction: (for more nonfiction, 
go to kissilent.wordpress.com )

All i got this morning, i hope to give. i might be runnin on fumes, but i wanna live. Here comes Carlos, to bless us with egg mcmuffin. A crystal clear morning. The saturday november two thousand nine special. Corner of macarthur and telegraph. Real time. Seven hours nineteen minutes and who knows how many seconds accumulate like pennies in my change purse.

Cold. The mufflers give away ignitions in the silence behind double pane imperial motel glass. We sit by the single window. The aircon, crankin' heat. My ass warms the seat. Two gentle men, my friends, my mechanics. Carlos and Freddie. We let the nutritional statistics fall away. Throw some lil wayne in the frying pan. Rip out and hand you the shit. A dreamy date with an egg mcmuffin, on a cloud. Damn! you the shit. Fast food morning with fab 4 Freddie. Out on the back of the harley, headin home to get ready. Gotta go to work, no brakes. Kick that shit into fifth. Fabulous! Feel the torque as she takes.

Insane or sane, the world she's just the same. We are the ones who need to change. Learn how to manage and balance energy. Take the basics: energy 101. I saw and tried to catch her there. Happened somewhere between 7th street san francisco and oakland, downtown. Somewhere near the civic center. Somewhere underground. Relegated to some subway station lost and found. I got adrenaline cause i have 4 days wide open here and the biggest heart to share. Plenty of time to heat up and cool down. Plenty of time 2 find the right split of antifreeze and H2O. Plenty of time to care.

Leaves you wholly satiated, these cool urban mornings. Ready for the hunger strike. Heart calibrated to hold center. Beat rock solid and rock steady. Unfaded. Underestimated. Ready. All i got left in me after a couple hard days getting harder, current of feeling getting stronger, up higher and maintained: self-centered and contained.

Still drops off to face the other side of reality. All the sadness, the fatalities. All the tears angels ever cried in a rainy day on International Boulevard. East Oakland. Count rising into triple digits this year. I swear... the painful seeing what i seen, being where i been, doing what i do...like gettin' lucky to catch the sun on the rise. Taste the morning dew. I am full with all that i'm always craving. I am mad to the furthest you can extend. I am mad! 2  point of raving.

I am alone and going inward. Contract and then expand. Like lungs like breath like life. Now i'm going outward. What i say to you, what i say to self-- now now now it's not always the case. You offer what u can. You build your skills in the community. You try and ask for space. I have no motive to change the communique; i take it, no hesitation. Not always pretty, not always nice.Whats gotta be said, is what i gotta say. Realtime with no delay. A window into the moment, and hopefully no pain.



by Katya Mills 
November, 2009
Creative Commons licensed