decompression

yeah i be trippin. but here with my bro in adam its all good. we toured the city and its beautiful, even the ancient hos flicking their thick swollen tongues at us from behind clean windows. red halos. the morrocans, adjusting their sneer to our knowing gaze. the dutch, happy to chat and interested. last time i was here, two dutch beauties rode by on a bike and yelled at me: fucking tourist! now i notice them peepin me. makes a brother smile to himslef. the tall skinny hosues leaning against each other, cannabis, funky and green, floating in the air like hazy pollen. i can only use cliches. they are cliches for a reason. we all know what they mean. it took all afternoon and several strolls and a good healthy mixture of cold heineken and frothy coffee to get me to breathe peacefully again.

when a man is not in control, he gets frustrated and angry. when his efforts seem to twist into strange unrecognizable shapes, a man gets depressed and questions meaning. rejects the power of will. a good stroll and jokes can help relieve all of this. beer helps. a girl, throwing a nervous look of interest. all these make a man remember the buddha palm. adam is a buddha palm, holding the putrid blooming flower of life.