Life is intermediary, always.
A constant indeterminacy.
Becoming less and less intelligible
as time goes on.
Making every excuse except
the real excuse.
Eating fried apple turnovers
while
trying to get away
from the ghost of you
who I guess is you.
There is no longer anything hanging off the seat.
"I'm not the one."
Making lists doesn't help
if the only thing
you have time
to do
is make lists.
I don't know why I have this famous reputation.
She cuts her hair short in order
to wear barrettes.
In this particular
time zone situation.
Conceptual reading.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
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