Tuesday, April 24, 2012


I’m at Borders again – a rainy noontime.
In a few, I’ll head to Kiku at The Hilton
to lunch with Kim.  December approaches
seven years.  Would wearing a bra for a
hot month (Mom said it was 108 at her place
yesterday) give me any perspective? 

Which direction do you point?  Porn
helps us understand survival of the
fittest.  Just yesterday I was using
Pavlov’s theory and Newton’s
laws of gravity to explain
religion.  My own religion,

to be clear, but they don’t call it
metaphysics for nothing (I’m
bombarded with a partial visual
of a photograph I took perhaps
a year ago – a sign in Chinatown
that says something like “No running

or jumping in playground” under which a
graffitist has unprettily scrawled the word
MIND on the sky end of a nearly vertical

seesaw with MATTER anchoring the other end of the
black-markered jagged line—representatively plank—
abutting solid ground.  The big clumsy hits paydirt

after all.  But is college in the picture?  Does
Anna Nicole even have a goal?

Recess ends.  Naptime begins.  Time to
skip kindergarten and read War and Peace

to Mrs. Renfrow.  Was she really that
impressed with her assignment:  the

first grader who read the Southwest
Times Record for breakfast?

Two months later, my first boyfriend,

the Superintendent.