16,215. DEXTRON, AT THE EXTREMITIES

DEXTRON, AT THE EXTREMITIES

Mostly always left with nothing, and drinking

beer at the cloth counter with Linda Lou, I sit

back contented. I never stray, just get stupid.

My fried Donald will come pick me up. I won't

fall over, I promise. He's the sort of straighter 

arrow than I'd ever be, who sees things only

one way, and straight on.

-

Not for me, who lives in a funhouse mirror

of refracted and reflected possibilities, 30 deep.

Like when you twist a mirror, say, and see the 

back of your head, and there are many of you

running out in a row. I leave those things intact

and pick and choose. 

-

Never leave an opening for regret. It's a very

useless premise. Everything has a promise, if

you just remove your god-damned expectations

off it.