YOU MAY STEAL THE LOGPIN
To right now understand, yes, you may steal
the logpin of all my blood and marrow, or read
the old code of my lineage from Etruscan to Dead.
I can send you the papers; we can dine together,
and you can watch my habits. Like I watch you.
-
I love the rise of your chest and the smile you make
with agreement. Nice girls, nice women - a logic of
progression my mother would make. But she also said
'Candy's dandy, but liquor's quicker.' Boy did she have
a way with words. Upon leaving with a girlfriend, I'd
have to hear, 'Be careful; if you can't be careful, be safe.'
-
Could you imagine what that was like? Even if I asked
you, I know I'd get that smile again. The house, as I
remember it, was funny too - things you'd like. Piles
of Life Magazines, and two shelves of Reader's Digest
Condensed Books! That was crazy stuff - deep knowledge,
a long, deep pass over a football field of information. Some
poor writer-slob spends fifty hours working over three
paragraphs, and some editor creep chops it off so as to
'condense' the operative story and volume. Shoot me, now.
-
Anyway, sweet thing, that's the boat from which I had to
disembark - I've settled here now, on this other land entire;
something solid, something sound, with far less sensation
to be had. I'm happier for the absence, yes, except for you.
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