Ring bells on chained bikes. Move.
Please.
Please?
Please!
I have already outlived better men but my perception of your perception of me is not good but it does not matter if anybody else thinks you matter.
Night sounds: clanging radiator, snow shovel scraping sidewalk.
We might be even worse for each other than we are for ourselves. She belches in French and the whole world is in a hurry to slow me down like a crossbred dalmatian-great dane.
Remember: swing for the chopping block, not the wood. Good first-date lesson. Not like this guy who brags to a lady companion, “All my girlfriends have had nice teeth. It must be some kind of subconscious thing.” He is a dentist. “People care so little about their back teeth. You need them to chew. Is that a good enough reason?” She nods and he keeps talking. “Usually the people with really bad teeth only worry about the look and not the function. I don’t know why. You don’t need straight, white teeth. You just need teeth.” She smiles, flashes her teeth, does not say anything. “My dad always said you can tell how rich someone is by how nice their teeth are.”
What do you talk about after this becomes boring? (Instantly.) Gently murdered but there are other things to uncover. Do we save old love letters to prove how much people lie to themselves? Who has seen the pink garbage truck? Why are not more people freaked out that we can see the moon?
So much must be done and, in some ways, I am excited for us to feel bad about the world.
~O~
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