Portlandia

I discovered my Portlandia files written in the '90s: poetry et al. and I will type a section here: Hornblowing squealing out of rhythm/ warm breeze blowing over. A drunk lays on top of his radio, passed out not a half block from the parade. Everett is the beginning/ fat sticked snare drummers/ electric bassplayers with their amps on rollers---Nerf footballs in the air. Energy building in the last few minutes before the parade begins. We got casualties and statistics/we got flowersellers and ice cream vendors and Burger King overflowing. We got authorities on the streets and in cars/ we got pillow-lined curbs and runners/we got skaters and fags and dragqueens/we got streetpeople, bag ladies and young families. There are little ones and fat ones and old ones and lovers. There are flagwavin' balloon wavin' color bedecked plastic toys wavin'. There's walking down the middle of streets, walking on sidewalks, steppin' on toes and walkin' between... There's folks on trucks propped up/there's music players in costume---red and white and black all shiny and new. They were drinking coffee and coke, and beer and fruit drinks---eatin' fruit bars and candy---everybody getting ready for the parade. Leaning on walls crazy bastards screaming..too many runners running. Sure as hell if I ain't part of it....