Laneville-muted sunlight, good sex, bipolar, playing Jay-Z in the morning pissing off the people below me. Laneville-crappy bars and not in a good way, buildings like prisons, walking the streets, so alive unlike now in my catacomb spirit. Laneville had a dirt and joy mixed spirit, good news, poetry explosions, I felt important. talking on the phone with Darren playing his songs outside in the glory dark and moon. Laneville-downstairs in the basement where Wanda smoked her pot secretly and talked regally by the washing machine about how she needed it medicinally and I didn’t know if I agreed. Laneville where Wanda and I forgot that we slept together years before and were ok now as friends. ghetto lawn mowing and baseball with her kids. Laneville- you didn’t last long but you were my home and you almost felt like it. long car ride happiness, do you have anything for me Laneville I am broke. I was taken in by friends in your ugly grey bosom- a gesture of God. could He gesticulate for me again please? Laneville I don’t know what you mean, what I should learn from you all I have is this residue it shimmers though, like you do.
