Sentimental
What of my lovely friends? Now
there’s a sentence! And who advocates
argument? “I do! I do!”
Nothing tastes right. Everything is
soggy and dull. But the iced tea
is pretty good. I’m trying to
drown myself in it. And then,
thirty-six pages into it, absolute
shivers. Up and down and all around!
We have a concept of justice
Despite the fact that assymetry is ubiquitous
And constantly throws things off-balance. But then
We are a tilted species.... (Lyn Hejinian)
I sit comfortably in a bed on the side of a mountain.
The bed is horizontal to what? Which lies in
a thicker reality: the mountain, the bed, or me?
Obviously, I’ve mis-stated everything.
Two people are giggling where
giggling isn’t allowed. With lips tersely pursed,
onlookers, those respecting The Golden Rule
of Silence, hone in on the gigglers.
No man is an island? I am the very template
of narcissist: I am suffering from the loss
of what it means to really know someone.
Meanwhile the fawns graze and the
turkeys gobble. And I recline
into the comfortability of
horizontal giving lectures to my
friends in my head. Imaginary friends.
Imaginary head. Imaginary horizontal.
