I change daily the size of the bird that will carry me to heaven.  I don’t know why my kids dash out of public restrooms giggling at having pressed every hand dryer.  I don’t know how they recognize you from your tv show.  you wouldn’t believe the business a broken metal detector attracts.  my gift is not lonely but it is mine.  when I dream the tornado I dream what is in it is undisturbed.  man in a chair reading a book.  in a tornado.  it is hard for me to exclaim.  I saw a dictionary drop and miss by a mile a baby’s head because the baby’s head was elsewhere.  it is like I am again addicted to those double A batteries that as a boy I’d **** on while outside uncle was kicking that tiny dune buggy at a cat most likely as perfect as any cat we’d come by.  I say perfect because it was there and gone.  I used to be fat.  it felt true.  and then I had a fat friend and I went and told him no bird would be able to take him anywhere.  you have a wife you have someone to have your child.  the success sorrow has brought me is perhaps underground.