I’m walking around in my brain.
There is so much here! Mottled
snapshots, maps, lovenotes,
e-mails (some are also lovenotes),
movies stars, porn films, toilet brushes...
I’m not trying to say anything. Just a few
words: potato, elm, eleven, backyard.
Barthes says dreams are boring.
I read this while facing the Bay Bridge
a bit after sunrise on Saturday morning.
