MY CHLOE

And of course, I have to speak ….

Twice.

The traffic’s not moving,

I check my wallet for cash:

Just enough …. for today,

I head straight for my favourite whore.

******

No: it’s not a story,

Yes: it’s a poem, more or less.

The hobo: always a different outfit,

Why ask the question?

You know the response ….

This is counterfeit change.

******

I just scored a job

Standing on the street:

Indifferent,

Don’t speak in my language.

Though the script will be in this tongue,

We’re all poor around these parts.

The black: even poorer,

He was black, without shame.

I thought we’d beaten it out of them,

Now, we beat no one.

He was black: I’m racist,

I’m back, in the marital bed.

******

When shall we begin?

Over a coffee, of course.

But when?!

When possible.

As soon as possible,

I give him my details

On a torn scrap of paper,

One millimetre by four.

My paper’s precious,

My pen ink a commodity.

******

He blocked my path,

My path to my whore.

I see another

Sitting on the ground:

A disgrace,

She doesn’t even want the work.

My hard-earneds,

Have some respect.

My hard-earneds go to those with respect,

For themselves, for their work ….

My new work ….

Mixing cocktails.

******

The gig fell through,

I never heard from him.

I always wondered how it works,

Now I know: it doesn’t.

Of course he’s extroverted,

All filmmakers are ….

Most filmmakers,

I’ll do my research ….

I’ve already done my research:

How to write film scripts.

I wanted to be a playwright, in truth,

I admired Shakespeare.

My work doesn’t compare to his,

I’m a failure.

I failed,

I make a living:

I’ve failed,

I’m dissatisfied.

******

I’m involved in the whole process,

Casting, scenario, etc.

I feel only failure,

In my fake leather shoes ….

That break,

I buy them cheap:

They break,

Over and over:

It’s a cycle,

Endless.

******

My clothes are always gifts,

I can’t make immediate decisions.

I see a vest,

I say I’ll be back around later:

It’s gone,

It’s too warm for vests.

I go in just a shirt,

Thin shirt,

Red shirt:

I joined a cult.

******

The word cult, negative connotations,

We’re a sect. Religious sect.

High up in mountains,

In an abandoned mansion.

We all wear these red shirts,

We never see our leader.

******

Take orders without pen and pad,

Memorise.

There’s too much happening

Simultaneously.

******

The city of a love,

I heard it said outside.

My back faces the open door,

Chloe ….

Love,

I await her.

She no longer springs forth,

She’ll be in my play.

Ever pleasant,

Never riled.

******

There’s a chair,

I sit.

Now I’m in the way,

I’m a bother.

Form an alliance,

I’m in the union.

The union of playwrights ….

My Chloe ….

A cold glass of water for tired souls,

Working hard under a hot sun.

Bothering passers-by,

This is a cul-de-sac.

There are only homes here,

…. I’m heading home.