En direct de St. John's University, Jamaica, New York...

THE SMALRUS WEB SITE v. 7.0

Opus of Prince Arthur and St. Laurent, No. 03
Movement 7, ("March 27")

At 127, the 363 has stopped at the traffic light
And I don't deny this night any different than other months
Denim cut low with Paracuso shirt to match a blonde hair
Haven't seen you in months and the feeling still lingers
Something else is different in the air, a sense you never cared
Like the crispness that cuts through a warming spring air
I think en francais
Parfois
American spring breakers trapsing the streets, jacketless with brown paper bags
More girls tell me to study
But I study the ants as they meet in full force
Through taxi fields and valet service

I've listened to these same songs month after month- I remain convinced not everything changes in life
Didn't want things to change
Didn't make it this way
But for this slight pause in the action
One girl uses someone else's legs to walk
At one point, there are no people on the corner
And I think of a zen koan possibility-

with the millions of stars in the universe, is there any fraction of a second where none of them shine?

is there an infinitessimal period where I am not alone,
parmi les fourmis?

shift to techno beats at 159 am

But not as many people tonight
And where did Chantelle go, she was just here
I still think about where you are and who you're with
Why things during the cold months seemed so dynamic
And why the reality has been that the action is continuous
Stepping back to notice when you throw yourself into the sea
I have died and come back
A black man with a Kangol wool hat on a cell phone
Post-club stumble once, stumble twice and explain the meaning of life over a cell phone
Green and blue blinking lights must have cost a fortune
I helped a man in french, use wireless internet to find a bus schedule.
Parfois les riches deviennent plus riches et les pauvres deviennent plus pauvres
No long lines here
With the nice weather, everyone's out
Tomorrow I wait with a different group of ants for playoff tickets, creating memories not to be forgotten

The daytime barista walks in, swipes a cookie
And flashing police vans whiz down the prohibited street
237 and the evening ends for many
As I see the girls I saw going out in the evening commencement
My friend Rachel stops in
-little Rachel-
Finding that I'm online, she inquires to add me to her buddylist.
Things I think about:

Will the internet become obsolete?
What if depth perception never existed?
Why are select lignts on in skyscrapers and who is in room 1329 at le 1000 at 10pm on Saturday?
What is life with someone else in my head?

Que pense-je, tout le temp
Invasion de mes pensees, mes sentiments
Another...
Nights spent on ants and watching others, like the pointed fuschia shoes with silver purse
And wishing you, no one else was here
The more I think, the less you want
But is it me or someone else that this corner-
    this coffeeshop, these banks, the restaurants and
    the ants-
Make my pen bleed for you