Aquaman drowned in the bathtub

When
the last track
plays
and I close
my eyes,


I see my old shoes
hanging from the power-lines
in las vegas,
their sway unchanged
in my absence,

I see the faces
of junkies
growing numb
into worlds
I have known,

I see
the gutters
flowing
with soda-cans
candy wrappers
and sandwich bags
that have
never
known
a sandwich,

I'll always
remember
the free-samples
of freedom
that burned
my tongue,
scarred my pallet,
and left me
wanting more

of the taste
of the smell
of the escape,

seldom
do I fantasize
about the
ocean
of blood