mmdccliv

…I don’t really think in words, but impressions.

Saying something in words is so harsh; too

general.  It’s never enough.

                                                       —Joe Brainard

He has me giddy

searching for that

pot of gold.  What

a rainbow he is!

I am so in love

with not knowing

where I’m going.

Quick, what comes

immediately to mind

when you see the

words SHATTERED

GLASS?  I’m always

moving around with

some: in my pockets,

in my socks, under

my feet, in my hair,

stuck between my

teeth, etc.  Today,

I went shopping

for some that’s

as of yet un-

shattered.

It’s expensive,

though.  And

who needs it

anyway?  I’ll

stick with the

ruby-studded

diamonds in

my pants

pockets, in

my tube socks.

So I bought a

stick of lipstick

instead.  It looks

like a battery

that when

opened is

a tube of

butter.

Earlier this

week I lost

my lock that

keeps my few

belongings tucked

away; safe.  I forgot

to pick one up

while I was

shopping.  I

was too keyed

in to cheap

bleeding

jewels and

lip-tickling

batteries

filled with

butter.

Knock,

knock.  I’m

going to use

the rest of

October

(my least

favorite

month)

to buy 
a new

lock.

Stay

tuned

next week

for The Case

of the Lonely

Pneumonia.