Current mood:	quixotic
Current music:	"Stuck In The Middle (With You)" - Stealer's Wheel

RE: A sentimental treasury of life-won gifts, as told by Surfball T. Jones, before the accident
[1] It is a thing for which I must forever remain humbled
Being a motorcyclist
Each day in genesis, warped in lozenge-gold choreography
-- sunflax, it wafts with the ripple of the wind, blinding
me in my helmet and visor. I am taken by surprise
(I am raped. I am
conscripted.) I am veering
The tree lurches out with the talons of my grandmother
She, who always ate me up like custard in a bowl;
And I adore everyone I have ever encountered
Particularly anyone whose forehead moves whilst they chew.
I am softened like a penis made satisfied, softened by reverence
That I kissed the breath of so many dolls. I kissed
the girl who sells pasta salad sandwich quarters
in the food court that soulful, sunken holiday in Naples
I am glad, it is gladdening, I am engladdened, ho!
(You bit my navel as an asp hungering for my heartbeat)
Showed me off to your parents like a new catelogue dress
Thank you, Roberta, for fucking me with rhinoceros mercy. I
see the truck approaching me as I lurch and sprawl on
This road.
I will always want to be a jackrabbit. Always, jacknife.
It is difficult to breathe inside this hemisphere encasing me
To whit: akin to that of a shark cage, crippled of my capacity to flee:
Vicky Lettingfoot, to whom I eternal directed a slanderous reverie
O darling thank you for that lollipop you shared
No
I never thought you were ugly.
I was a young boy
And therefore
I was stupid.
Goodbye. Blue Mondays all. Goodbye. [*]