Next To Saint Sebastian

You look down

and never look to the sky again

The gutter holds more interest

Than the stars ever will

You can step on the cracks

And let yourself fall

Into the canyons, grandiose and pleasing to the eye

Falling is like flying

Only you know its going to hurt when you land 

So you have to land on someone who has wings

You become the angel's parasite

They are forced to be your guardian angel

But as soon as you get close enough to the ground

You let go

And you run

Because conversation with an angel 

Is like conversation with a beautiful person

Very, very boring

So you run, and you hide

In, perhaps, a doorway

Lighting a cigarette as you catch your breath

And you look as the Angel circles the sky looking for you

And you inhale the cigarette smoke

As you flick the collar of your shirt up

And you look at the door that you are leaning against

Someone has carved 'Waken your weapon, Waken your steps' in the wood

You think about this and exhale

The angel has gone so you walk onto the street

You have fallen deep into the gutter's crack

So this aint no normal day

You see poets cutting off their hands

They refuse to write another word

You see whores sewing on the hands to their thighs

Anything to get more business

You see William Burroughs buying a mongrel dog

He still has his hands 'cause he needs them to catch the monster

The monster living in his new mongrel dog

You walk on, folding your collar back down

Somebody calls your name, you look, it is King Saul tho you don't know him

He knows you because he is wise- wiser than most give him credit for

Very wise

He is selling fire crackers and old songs from the age of Arab slave traders

You buy one and sing the words to your self

Its not very good but you will keep it as a souvenir 

The cigarette has finished so you flick it to the side of the pavement

But it goes into a bag of coffee beans

The merchant sees and runs out

He runs out and yells something

The lyrics to the song you just bought, you realise its a two part harmony

So you sing along

It sounds better but still, not worth what you paid

You have to buy the sack of beans

You stick your hand in the sack and it reminds you of masturbating 

You don't know why

As you walk along the road you throw a single bean out for each step

Someone behind you asks you why you are doing it

You turn, it is a prostitute, a thigh-hand is full of coffee beans

You tell her because you are masturbating

She winks and you rip her thigh hand off and slap her with it

Cavafy marches over picks up his hand with his hook and thanks you

He wishes to take up poetry once more

He offers you a coffee 

You decline, he shrugs, slaps you with his hook and walks off

You can feel yourself grow hungry

You walk to a cafe and sit down, you order bread and soup

The waitress who looks like the only girl you have ever loved delivers

When you have finished you ask for your bill

So she ties you to a tree

Next to Saint Sebastian

She calls over the only girl she has ever loved

And you are shot full of arrows

You watch as the arrows and the soup runs together and then on to the ground

You look up to the sky with the face of a martyr

And then your angel comes

He goes through your pockets takes a cigarette, lights it, and looks you in the eyes

He unties you throws you over his shoulder and takes you home

He doesn't stay to talk because he hates talking to the wingless