Monday, July 06, 2015


You See Plus, I See Minus

I remember
when I used to
feel cosmopolitan

drinking a Cosmopolitan,
in good company, or, say,
a few stories up with a

blurry but blistering view
(squeezing out the tear-
drops).  Such surreality

in his early works, yes?
This phenomenon is
something I tend to

place under a large
umbrella (which,
in French, is not

but parapluie) and
call it all goth.

It’s about a quarter
to seven in the morning
(PST, not CEST [really?]),

and I lie here believing
finish equals awake; the end
comes when the eyes open

with something like intent.
For some godawful reason
I have an appointment with a

fitness instructor at 8am local.
Now I’m just a schlump with

painfully aware that this is not a
nightmare (within which I raise a limp-
wristed au revoir to mémoire:

a brief...recollection, yes,...
in which I am neither cosmo-
politan nor curmudgeon...).