Friday, December 18, 2015


Too many things have spiked for me to care:
You wear your suit of armor as a fashion? Is
that OK? Your beard, I see, is again, once
more, caught in your shoelace. I really don't
think that will make GQ. The fact of the matter
is that your new bleeding madras out-trumps
my own sweating blood  -  in either case, my
shirt runs on. Hold this a moment while I untie
the leash to the cattle at bay. They stand outside
the door here, while the black dog is barking  -
an insane racket if ever I heard. The guy who 
was in the car crash the other day, he told the
police (I've read the report) that the shine on
your shoes, walking by, blinded him so that
he hit the other car by running through the
red light he'd never had a chance to see.
As for me. Today is the 99th day of my wearing
this tasteless blue shirt : flannel, with foxhole-cotton
cut outs and bloody awful cuffs, a bleached collar
that rolls, and a monogrammed pinstripe running
down the back. Oh man, but I do love it so.

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