i was reading bubblegum by adam levine and i had a flashback to when i was at my old man's place in rosemont, pa, specifically to sneaking his buick centurion out in the middle of the night soused to the gills over hills a bottom screeching sparks. i can't believe i didn't crash and crush my body or get caught by cops or the old man, like no one noticed. i told r. and she asked what made me think of that and i said i think it was the fictional kid who wrote bubblegum. then i looked at the paragraphs before my flashback about why he reacts or doesn't react to the smell of his granny or the smacking of her dentures that sounded like wet sex or a fly he'd sometimes smash and sometimes be oblivious. and i thought of the centurian exhaust fumes coming up to my bedroom the old maid's room and my eyes and heart burning while a bluebottle fly smashed its head endlessly against the windowpane. that's all, it's of no consequence, but still. i remember bubblegum as always disappointing, always leaving your jaw sore and your teeth bored and wanting more.
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                     you could keep on chewing for a really long time. 
so what, though? why should you? why continue chewing? if the sweetness was gone, what incentive did you have?

adam levin
bubblegum