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enjoy this Cara Losier Chanoine writing in the Scars / cc&d free 2016 PDF file chapbook: Bowetry (click on the front cover image or the title text to download the free PDF file)				You can also order this as a 2016 6" x 9" perfect-bound paperback ISBN# book! Click on the book cover to order Bowetry as a book at any time!

Order this writing in the book After the Blues the cc&d July-Dec. 2016 collection book		get the 318 page July-Dec. 2016 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Bring Me the Disco King
Reality 2003

Cara Losier Chanoine

I still don’t remember how this happened.
The leaves are spinning, our light’s gone,
and I’m looking for water.
I’m knocking on your door
again,
in red-eyed pain.

When it seemed that I would always
be lonely,
I discovered a new killer star—
tragic youth wearing tattered black jeans.
Says she’s got her mind on countdown.
Says she felt too old
for all of this,
and life wasn’t worth
the crumpled paper
it was written on.
She melted home
through the snow,
flooring all her mischief.

I told her,
Little girl, come
blow me away.
Dark is forever,
but there’s never gonna be
enough bullets.
I won’t look at the shots
by the mirror’s frame,
that great white scar.
I breathe so deep when the movie gets real,
like life in a comic,
like the way they did the Bible.

I hear the morning junk,
struggling for reality:
steam on the floor,
empty smell.
There’s always someone to hate,
always damp morning rays
in the stiff bad clubs
to stab you from the city spires.

I got a better way.
I’m just a devil in the marketplace
but when I talk in the night,
it’s good and smart,
and hey,
Pablo Picasso never
got called an asshole.
Storms keep pounding through
my fading life
but my brain tangles hold me
tight.

The sky splits open
to a dull red skull.
I’m knocking on your door again,
sick with fear and cold.
Who but we remember
the ring of the bell
under chrome and glass,
the hot cash days
with no shape,
no depth.

I owe you
all the days of my life,
my river of perfumed limbs
trailed around through the years,
so when fall dog bombs the moon,
bury my bones in the marshland,
where love lies
like a dead clown.
Don’t let me know
when you’re opening the door.
You promised me the ending
would be clear.

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