76

FICTION

I never touch the stuff.
The prose poem goes to school
for the first day and I'm
at home alone. The transit feeling
goes right through the picture on
the wall. How does the volunteer
exist in the voluntary. Saying
whatever. TEAC. I want stuff.
A car, a stereo, a woman I love
to live with me. The fur in
the door. You're going to need
a fur to visit the playground
the way I have in mind. Have
you in my light cure. I'm
back to the drawing board. My
back to the drawing board. On
your back on the drawing board.