Gangling ghosts cause trouble inside this meaty microwave-- I am on these streets and don't know how I got here. I'm carrying 2% milk, in my left hand, and a carton of extra-large eggs in my right-- I drop the jug and it bursts. I joke about how I still have 2%, but no one laughs because no one has ever really been around to hear me. So, I'm scrambling eggs and wishing I had that milk because who doesn't like voluminous eggs. I stop whisking and ask who is there. Why am I afraid of you, Why am I afraid of you the raw scrambled eggs on the floor, touched by ceramic seashells. And it's you. You are the Lord, a naked lover, that absence caused by my auto-pilot parents Forever, right here.