8125. THERE'S AN IDIOT

THERE'S AN IDIOT

There an idiot born every minute,

and they all are taking my name.

I can't escape the reputation of

someone escaping a reputation.

How did I get here? The nurse in

the newest hospital, the one holding

the new baby by the garbage can lid,

she says she doesn't know but someone's

given it my name and she has to go. I

wave her off, as if to say, 'I won't

push you around either, OK?'

-

Some nights, I'm afraid to go to sleep,

and just wind up sitting up all night.

There are too many things to re-meet

in these dreams I keep having : that

errant knight riding a horse made of

cheese, the windmill God who draws

pictures of people in pieces, and throws

them down to make lightning. The very

big girl with snakes for hands. What is

all this, again, and why now? They're

all taking my name, even in sleep.

-

There's another idiot in the corner

store  -  making donuts from Turkish

Taffy and calling it an Indian treat.

I've had it before, and it wasn't that

good. He sells it for a dollar a pound,

but it used to be three. Some things

rise, and other things fall. But they're

using my name, any and all. I'm now

growing tired of the game, and I want

to move to Desmond Heights,

(if it's all the same to you)....