Sunday, December 2, 2007

Lady A is a mitzvah. In her house we eat warm chili and smoke. It is too cold outside even to see your breath in the air and our hands go all dead. We wear our coats indoors in New England.

Tony curls and coils chains on a bald head. We all have voices that occupy space. What I say, if there are those out there who get off on girls popping balloons, then all things are possible and there is no reason to fear.

When the temperature falls this far I scrawl stolen lines in my Mead notebook crouched by the radiator. In the morning I think why does my neck hurt and then I remember it is from his teeth like mad like the last Yes. in Ulysses and I rub it out and go for pancakes and coffee.

I have never felt winter like this. I will not wear pants until I have to. I will fill my lungs with ice until my capillaries turn to crystal spiderwebs. I want her sleep to live in me.

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