mmdccxlvii

     1) An unvert is neither an invert or an outvert, a pervert
         or a convert, an introvert or a retrovert.  An unvert
         chooses to have no place to turn.

                                                       —Jack Spicer

Toby Lee, guitarist and child
prodigy, stares out from the
computer and onto his bed
but momentarily, lost among
his various quirks and tradition-
al guitarist twitches. He is hard-
ly as historical as they are, these
traditional glitches.

Unleash, henceforth, the 9am
piece of misunderstanding (Oh,
do come back Mister Under-
standing…)….  Your promised
plans make fucked up moves,
make things like me hurt.  That
tough love disguised as bitter pills
to toughen up or make one better?

I’ve never been an easy scam (much
as I tease so) but next to you I’m not
but had. Isn’t that historical?  As if
the vapor of your fake death would
deign to respond.

Without a map, without a dollar, without
an aging couch, much less a familiar door
to open (close and deadbolt), I find my-
self (like I find Toby Lee).  In this bubble
of misbehaving, misbegotten emotion, I
am left to face this farcical non-existence
you invented for yourself, an omnipresent
tension that turns out to be as real as

your fake pills for love.

“Witches’ brew?” offers the magician’s
assistant, as he lifts the gargantuan
magic eraser up to the summer sun.