iamzach.com

Rocknroll Fantasy No jokes here. I love you like the Porsche squeezes my ass as I'm drivin' it. I'm climbing numbers up and down like stairs or mountains. I'm about to tell you it's not making sense it's a picture in my mind it's on the tip of my tongue, bloody like sangria. If I could say 'I don't have it' I would, but I've got something stopping my breath like a lonely, fat, desperate woman sitting on my chest. It's a rocknroll fantasy it's in the taillights and sunsets and highrises. It's unbelievable but it's on the front page, so what does it mean? It means that's me as the plastic icon on your dashboard watching you as you're driving down the freeway going to the porn shop. It means I'm wearing down the tread on your tires 'cause you're getting there too slow. It means you've got me too close and I'm gonna come away taking chunks of you with me that I'll sell somewhere for bargain basement prices, or if you're not good to me I'll give 'em away. I remember the day you said I was this little innocent kid lying run over in the road, my brain coming out my head via my nose in two longish columns of undercooked pasta smeared in wet tomato sauce. In reaction I say I'll make you real and give you a real USA. It'll be your best deal on the closest thing you can have that'll feel like real adventure, and to be honest I can't really afford to keep you around much longer. There's this unforeseen unexpected damage. I think I've freaked out and washed up on the beach one too many times. So I'm broke and there's sand in my eyes and in my hair. I need a shower and I could really use some food about now, But seriously, I can't keep you, I can't keep you because you're too expensive and you're getting fat from all the bon-bons and it causes me to rant like this which I'm sure is not healthy, but oddly it's satisfying. I think you can't stop because you're compulsive. I know a lot of people like you. They tried to sell me an iguana named Randy once. They wanted \$5 or a handful of cashews for him. If you weren't costing me so much money I'd be able to afford him but I was broke and now Randy's probably a handbag on some Arizona housewife's shoulder. Call the factory workers there's a fire in the ravine and all the volunteer firemen are down at the Pamida buying cat litter for Mrs. Hegeson. Ask me who that rain doctor is and I'll send you down the street for a prescription. He's got bright eyes so don't forget to wear sunglasses, or just stare at his forehead so he feels like you're paying attention. Don't talk to him about Vermeer or those guys he hates the Dutch Masters. We were doing laundry together once and he was feeling generous, swinging his legs off the edge of the folding table back and forth, he said he liked what Eva Hesse was doing and asked if she was still alive. I told him I'm not sure but maybe I could find out for him. If you get in with him the right way he'll do you a lot of good. Or if you talk the wrong way he'll kick your ass right out of town. I've seen him do it, and lost a few friends.