Molly doesn’t know she’s been eaten,
a humble pie, (Molly’s my great-grand-
mother), but Ahab, lemme tell ya ’bout
Ahab. He knows a
thousand tongue-
twisters and remembers the thousand
swishers from whom he heard each first.
A thousand swishes don’t make wrists
tangential.
I try not to think about it.
“You think
too much,” he says. I
try not to think
about it too hard. Go
ahead, knock
yourself in the head.
What’s thinking,
anyway? Knock yourself
out, even.
Knock it out. Knock it
off.
Ain’t it interesting, a sentence you
read just yesterday, the exact same
sentence, ain’t it interesting how
it nears something like death by
the now, the very next day.
Not
at all, right? But it
is the very
same sentence. And
today is
not yesterday. At all.
That shit happens.
No wonder he says I think too much.
I’ve never thought a
day in my life.
