Anything’s more real, once it finds its mirror
—something I wrote down, surely stolen, but I'm unaware from whom
Probably
remiss,
I
made sure some-
thing
happened.
It
turned out
horrible,
so
horrible.
I
pull a sock
up
to my knee
(it’s
all about me
being
up to me).
Oh,
to be a striped
swan
gliding by
the
geraniums
or
two bees foul-
mouthing
this
narrative
(sur-
prise!). My eye!
Your
power of
attorney
(my
Bane to your
Batman),
whose
up
again
(in
chaps,
of
course).
Something
happens,
at
least—per-
haps
a chapped
Batman
vaulting
in
just to take over
my
yawningly long
chase. Which
is
fine, all
things
considered;
it
was
high
time
for a change.
