Sunday 31 May 2009
Like Hamburgers for Breakfast
Stupid Poets. I had a dream about you. And I ran sink water through my hair. With lubricated fingers from this morning. We are frozen in the kitchen of a Fast Food restaurant. I woke up from the dream and realized the pillow was burned with memory.
I grab a novel with bold print and sense the sunshine in my spine. Candy.
Stupid city. I love you, I guess.
WHAT WILL YOU DO?
If you think you think you should heed the warning of your mother and sister and not risk uncertain sorcery,turn to page 25
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