Hash Cigarettes and Hennessey

Since you didn't answer the phone, ignored my entreaties,

begged off my single-track-mind

I went fishing

on a railroad bridge, backed up

and was squashed

at dusk,

that magic

hallucinogenic

hour. We had just got off of work

and I splurged. A signed first edition

and the freshest plug of hash that ever

was exported up a mule's

ass.

The Hennessey,

though low in the bottle

will still be enough of a burn

to compliment the jungle’s expanse;

that swatch of jungle that delineates

the end, or the beginning

of buildings; where we'll meet, if you allow me to come over

one evening

watching the space debris

burn through the upper atmosphere,

on a bench, stool or even chez lounge,

a situation that's beautiful

but far from paradise.

I will meet you there

unless you want to be alone.

If you want to be alone

to more precisely measure your reaction

and make the experiment

purer, more selfish

make sure you are free of obligations, trauma, competing dramas,

or your mother. If she does call

don't be tempted to hit her up

for a loan. Leave that time and space

open, free, and especially

or reasonably

healthy. Prepare yourself. That means

stretch, yawn,

and keep your stomach full, you liar. Don't answer

the door, no matter how insistent

the knock. Turn off your cell phone, evade creditors.

In fact, the rent should be paid

for

ever.

Andrew S. Guthrie was born in New York City, lived for most of his life in Boston, moved to Hong Kong in 2005. He currently resides in both Hong Kong and Antwerp, Belgium. His artist edition “Broken Records: 1960 -1969” was collected by The Brooklyn Museum of Art in 2010. His book of poetry “Alphabet” was released in April 2015 through Proverse Publishing Hong Kong and his cultural history “Paul’s Records” was released through Blacksmith Books in October 2015. He has also been published online at Hotel Amerika, Nixes Mate Review, Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, Hong Kong Free Press and Pop Matters.