Monday, December 16, 2013


I arrived at last night’s party
not entirely sure how to write.

Sitting in the bedroom with a
greenish (‘skater’) bookbag

(Alien Workshop), I humbly
request a damp paper towel.

I’m not feeling so good and/
or I have nothing to write on

but my lap, my black pajamas.
I fantasize a laptop in front of

me with its cursor pointed at
an email from Kate.  Wearing

my blue sweatshirt, which is
slogging wet, reading about

blowfish.  Out of boredom.
The rains have gone to

Berkeley or to the Bermuda
Triangle.  Atop one of the

green sofa cushions, near
the top of this sentence,

I start putting together a
list of all of the attendees

at the party: Bill, Susanna,
Ron, Cedar, the two

Kevins, Curran, August,
David, Erin, Sarah,

Otto, Kim, Konrad,
Masashi, Stephanie...