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THE OLD GUYS The old guys from the bench now they get up at the crack of dawn and unload boxes at the port and one has been in rehab for 6 years and the other works hard on site and the other is treated like shit by his boss and gets in line at the cooperative or is suppressed by overdue bills or has a kid that screams in the living room or his head exploding from whiskey and one asked you for some change this morning at the tram stop. the old guys from the bench were beaten and signed the peace treaty and they no longer yell at girls passing by they no longer go hunting after zombies they don’t grasp the bull trying to break the race and they turn around tired on flowing lava and have dirty clothes

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meaningless words livid eyes dreams stolen from reality shows and no one remembers how things were before not even they ‘member how things used to be when each street each hour each woman was a naked promise and destiny opened its legs and invited you into the tunnel and the summer in June shone infinitely beyond the school’s gate nothing remains about them this bench only in the desert asphalt on which I’m seated tonight covered by shadows both in front and behind.


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IMMORTALS Watch them while they are making plans mortgages for 20 years paying monthly payments promising to love each other forever always delaying to a later date and everyday repeating like idiots “tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow” They think they’re immortal but scared of leaving the house after 9.

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Whole Car Poetry - Frank Veleno a.k.a. Hepo - ENG