where I sat drinking free sodas from a fountain,
 and reading “The Dogtown Poet,”
   devastatingly overwhelmed by the
    sudden need to write,
    something,
    anything,
    anything at all…
        don’t stop…just write
        don’t think…just write
        don’t sleep…just write
    It’ll all come out
    just the way it has to be told.
        don’t stop…just write
        don’t think…just write
        don’t sleep…just write
    How I took the Metro from the airport to the Arch,
    where even by the light
    of the late afternoon sun,
    everything looks dark and ugly,
    run-down crumbling walls,
    buildings with faded paint and fallen faces,
    the way that every parking lot
    is framed by razor wire halos
    meant to keep the devil out,
                or to simply lock the angels in,
    the dead trees drained
    at their busted limbs
    bare as knuckles in the dirty alleys
    where the junkies fist-fight
    over who gets to sleep on the trash bag tonight,
    all their broken arms like
    some sad monument to dirt and grime
    and brand new four lane highways/high-rise condos,
    the way the earth is torn apart
    by great machines
    and it’s all so progressive and good.
        don’t stop…just write
        don’t think…just write
        don’t sleep…just write
    How on the train,
    a little boy wearing a stegosaurus cap
    smiled at me and tried to offer up a high-five,
    but before I could accept it,
    his mother slapped him across the face,
    told him to
    ‘knock that shit off
    turn around
    sit up straight’
    and how in spite of myself,
    at that moment
    I couldn’t keep from wondering
    if that was because I’m a stranger on the train,
    or just because I’m paler than him.
        don’t stop…just write
        don’t think…just write
        don’t sleep…just write
    If the thinking gets to be too much,
    if the thoughts ring louder than
    what you can properly ignore,
    than change directions and write it out
    the way you hear it in your head.
    First thought/Best thought
        don’t stop…just write
        don’t think…just write
        don’t sleep…just write
    How I spent the past few nights
    thinking about a girl with deep silent eyes,
    wishing only two things
    over
    and over
    and over
    again;
    how the first was that I wanted so badly
    to be with her here in St. Louis,
    walking with her in Laclede’s,
    or along the Riverfront
    throwing quarter’s-worth handfuls
    of food pellets at the koi fish
    and watching them frenzy-feed,
    or showing her the magic trick
    I learned at Gibbol’s,
    which is nothing impressive once you know the secret
    but before then it’s
    so goddamned amazing and cool.
        don’t stop…just write
        don’t think…just write
        don’t sleep…just write
    How the second was that
    she would never again hurt,
    and always have a reason to keep smiling
    and to laugh loud,
    making everyone in the room
    turn and stare,
    insulted and offended by the very idea
    that in this ugly shit of a world
    we’ve been given,
    there could be a soul so brave and foolish
    as to be happy when they themselves
    cannot;
    that every single note of her laughter
    would be driven through their chests
    like spikes through the hands of god;
    that I can hear that laugh
    a thousand million more times
    before the sea consumes her…
    yeah, that one’s a compound wish…
        don’t stop…just write
        don’t think…just write
        don’t sleep…just write
    And if it’s too much for you,
    and if your eyes start burning,
    it’s okay…your body will put out the fire,
    and there will be people
    that will be curiously wondering what is wrong,
    and the more forward of their kind may ask you,
    and that’s okay too…
    just tell ‘em it’s
    ‘an old heartache matter come up for air’
    it gives them a reason to rest.
        don’t stop…just write
        don’t think…just write
        don’t sleep…just write
    It’s almost over now,
    and you will be going home soon,
    to another round of ringing laughter
    and that smile,
    and those captivating eyes
    that you’ve come to miss
    far more than what you should.
    Or you can come home
    to nothing but dreams
    of that smile, those eyes, and the laughter,
    and they may only be dreams and nothing more than that,
    but you will be home,
    and you will be there soon.
    Just make sure that before you leave,
    you take advantage of the coffee –
                it’s free, you know,
    so you may as well drink up.
    If you don’t who will?
        don’t stop…just write
        don’t think…just write
        don’t sleep…just write
    How at the end of the day,
    you can look back on it all and say
    “Was it worth it?”
        The emptiness of it all,
    the echoing space embraced by your ribcage,
    the lonely cemetery roads
    mapped on the palms of your hands,
    and the silence…

   
Yeah…
It was worth it.