10,004. WITH A MESSAGE

WITH A MESSAGE

With a message my new potato

came home to stay and I left the

water running to clean it. I thought

we'd see eye to eye soon enough,

and then the funny man with the

bleeding Buick, he came over.

-

This was a certain type of reverie for

a certain type a day : like a Tuesday,

with curtains, and hob-nail boots.

-

Perspicacious and overturned, the 

paint bucket trying telling me something 

but I paid it no mind and walked away 

while Calhoun bled. That was my dog's 

last other name. At the sideboard

where we kept its food.

-

The lady named Jill, she too had 

something to say, so I let her and then 

I tried kissing her hair. Mentioning 

how I'd always wanted to write something 

that could not be understood, she got up 

and said, 'I think you just did.'