A group Of Angry People, Fist-Shaped On The Horizon

Man, we’re miles away from any ketchup and
stop looking at the fishmonger’s
work-worn knuckles and at his
yellow armpits: fish and chips wouldn’t freely
dislocate from all the tough things
this man’s seen.

A fellow drug addict – a good one, one who knows
that fistful of thumbtacks squeezed by his
need, and our need – can help us with our addiction.
Just shut up and listen, okay? This guy comes
highly recommended – because he’s almost
constantly to be seen on a Vespa on

drifts of hooters and
when you switch his supply
chain? Calm as a lake. As unfazed and silly-looking as
a romantic criticized
and getting an asskicking
for his romantic unfashionable beard

but – fazed? Ruffled? Not in the least.
What may stop us from reaching him
is the head of that weather phenomenon
that’s rearing up there yonder, like male pattern
baldness over a dome of glistening, flaky crimson. If you’d
turn to the window on your right and

observe the asthmatic bluster – you’ll
see it. Our treat will be to observe something
on the horizon that looks, basically, like angry people. You
know it’s often counter-intuitive to addictively want,
but Rodriguez is the calmest fucker I know: reaches out
in orgasmic self-help and grabs

one hooter (said hooter thinks
someone else grabbed it. I know,
but you have to be prepared for rejection,
your sojourn in addiction may be a finger in
an asshole and your calmness may spit
in your face), a bit

freckled (the hooter) and the
areola soft and a
bit wrinkled: entertainment! Not path-obstructing
angering anger! In answer to your question he got
that ding on the chrome rear fender
of his Vespa from backing up

against a milestone in the south
of France; you didn’t want that much
information, I thought you wanted to meet
the guy? Likeminded individuals are
so fine whereas angry people
look like the weather especially

from afar, when gathered in a
fist-shaped clump on e.g. the horizon
like that horizon yonder … Oh that’s just a huge purple
umbrella the hand is holding
over the Collective Mass’s head – not
ominous cloud cumuli…

The calm is the calm. The fear is the substance-less-ness;
and yet you’re too afraid – or hungry –
to track the zooming Vespa down.
He’s got a beard, yeah. What? No
fucking way he’s a romantic.
Pfft. Would I EVER put our addiction in

the hands of someone who’s such a romantic
he a) grows a ridiculous beard, and b) is so
distracted by his romantic affiliations he actually
grows a ridiculous beard, and c) is too
distracted by his romantic affiliations to
help our metabolisms back on their feet?

It’s still a disaster – your, my, his neural makeups
wear disaster makeup – if you were wondering why
the angry hand was gathered outside
looking one moment very far away (like on
the horizon) and the next right here
wanting to punch the window out.