Monday, September 22, 2014


Did you want me to ingest this?

“Stop talking about porn,”
I entreat, “& start talking
about yr cigarette.  !”  Or
that’s what I said I said,

and I didn’t just get this
from the voice.  “It’s just
my viscous eye,” he texts,
right back at me, always

pretty good like that.
Along with “Just look up
the word zodiac.”  You
know, as if that would

figure everything out.
And that’s me, here,
like usual, just trying
to do that one little

thing, just trying to
figure everything
out, right?  Like why
she’s flying through

the air across Market
Street.  “It’s not the
voice, you idiot!” says
the voice.  “It’s one of

those unfair treats that
come to get served on 
happiest occasions.”
A treat. Come along.

Just for me.  And
just for you.  We
both breathe to-
gether at that one.