JIMMY KOMMA'S SEVEN-PART FIRE-DIARY SIDE-NOTE pt. 2

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“Always again, we two find ourselves wandering under the ancient trees
and as always, again we stretch ourselves out amidst the flowers,
and contemplate the heavens.”
-Rilke, being rehearsed in the car by
-Jimmy, whose backpack sits shotgun, full of tools for every occasion:
-Apples
-Book
-Zippo
-Flask
-Sunblock
-Water
-Dodger picnic blanket
-Black leather jacket (inherited from his mothers ex-boyfriend, Syd Nesh, the comic book writer. It was (hand)written in Syd’s will & testament that Jimmy should receive all of Syd’s clothing, jewelry, and a 1994 Toyota 4Runner. The handwriting held up in a vultures court ruled over by his blood family since that stuff was worthless to anyone who didn’t want to become Syd, which was (almost) everyone. Jimmy gave the 4Runner away to one of Syd's hippie exes, who wanted to use it as her new home, but he kept the dead man's leather coat as his own.)

If the lady wished for fine-dining after their hike,
which may or may not include eating her out on the Eaton Canyon walls,
Jimmy would be ready
to wear Syd’s Second Skin.
If she got dehydrated, water.
If she got cold, a Dodger blanket.

Standing on her porch, Jimmy studied a package from: The Institute of Rudolf Steiner.
As he debated whether or not to pick it up for her,
She opened the door and Jimmy went for a kiss 
but the moment his lips landed,
the snout of her German Shepard torpedoed  his cock.

“Now my Nazi stepson rides the backseat,
in the same place mafia guys sit to strangle rats,”
Turning onto Eaton Canyon, telling himself:
“Dom the dog but stay cool about it and DO NOT YELL!
After all, you know what it’s like to watch your mother on a date
With a strange man
Who smells of smoke
And wears black leather coats...”

Syd Nesh had 7 or 8 dogs, all mutts, at all times.
As a teen, Jimmy had nowhere to go, so he made the 7 or 8 mutts into 9.
One day, Syd shot one of the dogs in the head with a .48 pistol
In the living room.
“If it wasn’t for you, I woulda offed myself too,”  Syd said.
As they mopped up the dog-brains from the Spanish tiles,
The poster for Richard Pryor’s Live on the Sunset Strip hung above them,
Richard as tall as a 50-Foot Woman, but instead of owning it
Gripping his big toe,
like he just stubbed it.
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