Now I'm starting to reminisce on the yellow VW bug I saw one day while walking stoned down Lewers in Waikiki, in the windshield it had a scale model of a yellow VW bug with the interior hand painted to match the white and yellow hibiscus seatcovers of the larger version so I peered closer to see how detailed it got everything seemed to match and I tripped out on it and then I spotted in the windshield a micromachines VW bug and next thing you know my face is pressed against this cars window trying to see if the seats were painted and then I hear a distorted murmur behind me "SHESCUSH ME SWHASCHT ARESHU DOOOOINNTTGGGG" I think the murmuring is directed at me so I snap back to my senses and spring from the car trying to pinpoint the source when I see this cute little surfer chick in full on Wave Battling regalia(a bikini)like so:
Now most surfer girls don't wander far from the beach with out a sarong or towel on the bottom but this girl knows what shes got and flaunts it. I luckily was so high I got the words out and said how much I admired the creativity she put into her triple scale model so she told me a little about what went into it and we talked a bit and I found we had alot in common next thing I know I'm in the passenger seat and being whisked away to this mountain flophouse for surfers that is 4 stories of home descending down the mountain/hill side. We start discussing beat writers and how much we love Kerouac and could live on Apple pie and ice cream as well and we're on the fourth bong rip when she asks me if I want to go higher and I'm like alright. So she takes out a little metal box with a lock on it and takes a mini luggage key from around her neck and pops the lock off and inside is a whole cache of pills, baggies, vials, etc. She grabs a syringe and rubber tube then it happens she jabs me and my face falls into a seemingly endless spiral of a smile, my eyes are closed yet so wide open and I hear her voice. So familiar are the words when I realize she's opened my backpack and is reading from my journal of poems, lyrics, scribbles and musings and she reads it all and then folds a page and writes the date and hands it to me...
Chickenscratch as thus:
If there are halos around the lights and stars tonight
does it mark me soon to die before the sun shines bright?
Hours swim by and I lie in my undeath,
my eyes afixed on the last fading star as dawn swallows it,
morning light stalks into my eyes scalding them and I growl
"But for what misery".
I know only one nonmystery at this moment so pucker for me
and I will take my breakfast from your lips,
devour me as I devour you and we will fulfill a revolution.