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{{a train passed through my living room}} j.p.p. So I wrote a thing where the words are staggered and there’s a presumption of rhyme, if none, about a letter I tried to write you when my mind was still cotton but it emerged like ketchup does when it’s been too long since you used the stuff like the television pictures where a false heat is rising from behind a fence of fries and a soft drink beads sweat like some underfed model on a beach in the dead of winter When all I really wanted to say was something simple, if not unique, demure like how are you tonight? or bold like what makes you breathe? to the point like yesterday was such a disappointment It was loud and hot and I felt completely insignificant, microscopic by the time I explained it to the one person who should get it So I asked for something smaller in easy-to-swallow pills, easy-to-crack aluminum backs just faces in fall just tea under a sighing fog |
