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  • Jimmy Broccoli

Interstate 75/85 Entrance/Exit 248C – Atlanta, Georgia (USA)

Yeah, so I’m a fucking junkie

– and I know I don’t matter much here


Do you know what it is like to sleep on the side of a freeway on-ramp (?) –

this is where I am – right now (and have been) -


falling asleep to oncoming (and close) vehicle headlights –

- vehicle sounds, city sounds, people sounds –

- they approach and move forward (without consideration)

with fucking apathy –

and, mostly, they run together,

like run-on sentences -

or conversations you aren’t paying attention to –

on a day you’re still awake and it’s four days later


No shower since Thursday – and you blame me for it –

I want one every day –

Every day a shower sounds like magic –

I can smell myself – and I know what that fucking means –

It means you find me a monster –

I approach your car with my cup –

and I’m a monster


- but I’m freer than you are…


The downtown Greyhound bus terminal has fucking air conditioning –

It has heat –

It has restrooms

- and sometimes the police don’t fuck with me –

and I get to stay a few hours


[I have fantasies of being a college student –

in a fucking dorm with indoor plumbing –

and a roommate – and with books –

and with a fucking light to read them by –

and classes to attend, to succeed –

and, my smart and intellectual friends…

we sit at parties together and drink drinks

from thin and colorful straws –

we laugh together - because that is what we do]


I sleep among others like me –

Others willing to steal my motherfucking shoes if I sleep too soundly -

I don’t sleep too soundly –


Do you know how long you have to wave a cup at vehicles

on the fucking freeway on-ramp –

at a truck – at a car - at a motherfucking bus (if it will stop for a moment)

to be able to afford a fucking bag of meth?

(use it wisely – and guard it with your life) –

If you knew – if you were here – you’d understand –

my superior vocabulary don’t get me shit here –

my addiction digs in its heals – and I do not leave –

I don’t leave because I can’t compete –

I can’t compete with the sober world

– with the world that is sober


so, I don’t –

I wouldn’t know how


do you know how long the nights are?

do you know how long the days are?


And, I know I don’t matter much here –

I’m a junkie and I sleep on the side of a freeway on-ramp –

(with the lights shining in my motherfucking face –

and the sounds sounding loudly) –

and the garbage –

and the garbage – it’s everywhere – and it’s all around me –

but it ain’t me


it ain’t me


and I’ll fucking kill you if you try to steal my shoes


- I’ll fucking kill you


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