breakfast in the afternoon while dancing to a few a songs

from the radio
and the bugs skitter on saliva that sits on the porch,
she
yells.

''TOO LATE''

door slams and a picture falls from the wall and shatters into 17 pieces
leaving other fragments of wood.

I hear cars screeching outside as oil cascades onto the boardwalk.

an old lady is rubbing her thigh
and flicking her neck from the previous hour's injection.

I have yet to watch that show.

some guy wants my number but he has a fiancé and she thinks I look strange in my green overalls.

van gogh was a kind man.

I have got other errands.

my thumb Is protruding and the index still thumps sometimes
from when I sliced a good portion at work--

never compensated.

still walking on hot rocks

and still recycling newspapers.

still eating from tin cans on the dresser that I got for 3 cents in the
1930's.

have yet to read a book I've liked for some time.


still trying to make sense.

still writing.

still breathing and
pretending i'm a messiah.

still awaiting the crucifixion