My green iPod broke and I can’t find my
blue one under the bozo moon. Under
any moon I am still filth, even with this
fish band-aid. My heart hurts and the
police ring their bells but I am happy
in my bones. My bones ride the
elevator up and down for security
(surely there are cameras in there).
Reading V.Imp. with 7-up, soup
and gorgonzola salad. Things
are surprisingly warm and giddy
with my ride to the warehouse.
First, he drank a fuzzy navel,
turned all red and was scratching
up his arms, then to my bathtub
where he crashes immediately. I
get up to watch the war between
the Jews and the Arabs (this
before we know anything),
then back to bed for snuggling,
first time this year. Later,
in the middle of the night,
he gets up to clip my face hairs
for wallflower practice and
all the Raiders fans on BART.
It is a cloudy day.
