HERE RIGHT NOW
All that fake laughter bothers me, no end
in sight. Pinocchio and Columbus, together
as one, wouldn't be worse that all this. I
watch the cauldron boil, and the lady
in red slacks stands by the kettle. With
nothing but the edge of memory to
stand on, I swear to know I've seen
her before. Inconsequential drivel.
Nothing matters no more.