the thing went away
Well, the thing went away. That thing that made me feel so good. That thing. Yes, the overbearing thing. Bearing three one two dash forty-niner, I used to say. I used to say a lot of things.
On Sunday it was a quiet church. What was a quiet church? I don't know. I don't know because I don't know that I can float. Float helplessly above the high as I can get. Dark imperialism.
Tomorrow, tomorrow we will try to figure this out. We will know, but in truth, just be thinking that we know. But we know. The judge knows, the judge who is everybody. Everybody, who coincidentally orders a Bourbon Manhattan every day shortly after noon. At the local bar and grille of course. Yes, I'm local. Universally local.
Why? “Yes, I'm asking why.” the class president said. I was an alien, I said. That's why. I couldn't turn around. Everyone was on to me. Nope, I was definitely an Earthling, they said. But what they said proved to be not quite the reality, I thought. And what I thought was not the only thought. The only though. The Indian girl I mean. She laid the noise. Her siren ran off. I was beginning to get confused. Confused over whether I was talking about her or the truth.
Nala, god of wisdom. Graeme, god of goth. Of tigers. Of milk. Of prosperity. These don't mean any notation. Not even the slightest bit of German in them, or Bohemian or Russian I've often spoken. To hang on to the truth. The wind swayed, and I forgot what was everything.
Anything. Taboo, toboo. Sunburn, some burn. The church music played and played, and I got more and more confused as to what the Indian girl was saying. And what she was saying, she said in satin.
The lover's gift. Oh yes, most of all it was the fun that set them off. But occasionally, occasionally there was a ruff bug against the bunch. A tuff guy, so to speak. And to be, is natural. To be slanted ripples. Or Starbright Winston. Or crazy Liaison. Or anyone. My shoulder hurts like hell.
~
2001 - 2002