I want to share with you the remorse I felt
when I walked up the block and the restaurant with the
stir-fried salt cod over rice was no longer there. there is no
new way to render disappearance. however, try this:
tear out a piece of hair; rip the secret document in half;
sew it back together with the hair. this time
do it by yourself. to be myself in the afternoon
is walking into a non-existent restaurant, craving a
non-existent dish. hello (primarily members of the sex trade),
is everyone else this down when they die? okay then
I am going to drive to Portland,
walk around and see if I can find a bookstore.
I need a plot twist to be alone.
