I couldn’t figure out poot from whiz,
and neither could my father, or his.
—Albert Goldbarth
Is this really interesting? Phone rumors? Cavorted into a
marketing campaign designed to ready your wallet for what
might possibly be the latest in electronic biscuits some
several months into the ‘future’? Of course it is. This is
all too much. But please be kind enough not to ask if I
(myself) have stood in line for each incarnation, have
anticipated each’s demise a few days before the
warranty dissipates (conveniently around the same time
a new incarnation appears with glorious fanfare). Just
disregard. Right? What is this something new that I have
promised myself? Do I just step into it (on it)? Can I get
$550 in my checking account (the rent is due)? I dunno.
I have promised. No premeditation. And on Friday, as I
have promised. And I have promised. Is there nothing
special about faith? Are we descendents of roosters?
I eat another banana because it is in the bowl. Something
I try to forget is still going to happen in a couple of hours.
I open a Twitter account. I send Dean a picture from the
ceremony. I call Mom and reinstate movie nights. I start
a new game like Scrabble with a friend 2,000 miles away.
