took my arm and said something about MRSAclimbed into a sitting positiontook on his own half-assed-half-lotus“I had an axe and a wife.That’s all I remember.I had a rabid left hand,stimulating my neck by free-association.”pupils the size of dodge-ballshave you ever heard the word ‘mamihlapinatapai?’isn’t that Yaghan?it has the suction of a small vesselthe business with the teeththe flash of a conceptual tonguethe last linguistic lights flashingreaching into remote third worldsto explain the kind of social ephemerayou’d face on Bulvonn Drive
even though he was uprighthe was still supine in the mind
“I’ll warn you of everything.”He said ‘ponce’ through his nasal cavity.He still has my portfolio table.wrapped his arm around her silk-shirted waistthe stars wrapped in efflorescing halos“The Personal Assistant to the Third Hand.”“I know about you from walking slowly,from counting the furniture on my own half of the Earth.”“Look at those tiny churches, reading old books.”“I thought you told him in a voicethat you had some personal responsibility for the day.”
don’t think that I don’t have a gamutof branches, optical nerves, eyes