The pipes are knocking in the walls; groaning and dying.
You roll to the other side of the bed.
I roll out of bed and put a *** on.
The lights outside are strewn in no particular order and just on the door;
as if to say 'we tried'.
We try until the pipes burst.
We try until the coffee runs out.

I let skynet tell me the news brief and sit here.
I could be studying a way out of here.
But I don't go in until after noon.
I make another cup of coffee.
Listen to Teagan and Sara.
Look at ways to **** time...

The pipes haven't burst yet, but they're still knocking in the walls.

This delusional concept of dressing up in your finest threads just to sit in some quiet, ridiculously-named, fancy establishment that has four walls and a few toilets and neatly-folded napkins, spotless silverware, and an overly-priced menu just to talk about some ******* that you pulled out of your *** when your arm was being stretched to the max trying to reach for the stack of crisp twenties that the ATM viciously spat at you is simply ****** up.

Yeah… that’s what I thought until I met her.

You know, “the one.”

The one that all the guys say you’re ***** whipped about.

That one.

She has her **** together. She is driven, goal-oriented, smart, funny, and **** in that hippie/bohemian kinda way, except that she wears deodorant and shaves her legs.

She even shaves….ha! I’ll stop. I’m just toying with ya. But she does shave.

She even has dimples, man.

Dimples.

And guess who the lucky ******* is that has the best table in the house sitting directly across from her, staring into those brown, puppy eyes??

My ***.

Then, without warning, this horrible, invasive, mood-altering, uncanny, uncouth, *******-of-a-question barges right in.  It asks, “How did you end up with her??”

Suddenly I find myself in a western movie, and this bow-legged ******* walks in asking for me.  The double doors behind him swing back and forth in rapid motion.  I don’t want to cause a ruckus, so I do what any real gentleman does: take it outside and settle it High Noon style.  I stare into his eyes (they’re brown too, but not like hers), and his eye lids begin to slightly twitch.  I draw my pistol from my hip and shoot him right between those eyes; blow the smoke away from the heated barrel; spin my pistol around a few times; and in the holster it goes.

Problem solved.

She and I start jawing after the waiter with the long rod lodged in his *** goes to fetch our excessively-priced wine.
I swear he said his name is Skip or Kip or… ah who cares?
I continue staring into the eyes of the most beautiful woman in the world.
She begins to tell me about her bittersweet day, so I cross my arms and lean in a little. All my focus is on her and of course her **** mouth too.
God, she has beautiful lips….
She’s telling me about her day at work – at the vet, that is.
She’s a veterinarian.
Anyway, there’s this little black-and-white, speckled miniature dachshund named Teagan that has been staying at the vet for a few months now, and it’s made a full recovery.
She’s telling me this story with such great passion and zeal, but she’s frowning.
This wealthy, elderly couple adopted it today, and Teagan is gone.
She grabs my hand and apologizes for being such a “downer”.

“I sorry,” she says in one of those baby voices.

Is that a pouty lip???

**** Me...

Did I really just witness a pouty lip form before my very eyes??

Did she actually just talk like a baby???

Plain and simple, I don’t stand for that cutesy, baby *******, that pathetic material pedaled by those chumps who pull that “good guys come last” crap.  

She’s awkwardly staring at me.

Before she can utter a single word, I bolt out of my chair, telling her that I’m suddenly feeling ill and need to use the restroom.

I whip around without looking and bump into our waiter who is bringing us our wine.  It spills all over his pearly, white jacket.

He grabs my arm to break his fall, but we both hit the ground hard, right on our backs too.  

All eyes are on me.

It’s dead, ******* silent. You could hear a mouse ****.

What do I say?  

I can’t just make a dash for the door without saying anything.

My mind is completely frozen, and I lie here, trembling.

Suddenly, my lips begin to part.

The words wiggle their way out of that tiny space between my lips.

“I sorry.”

…

. . .

.  .  .

.   .   .  

**** me.

Birds, children,                  and diarrhea,
with pain in the head,      self-sufficient,
the Queen's rules must be followed up;
So many deaths died in fact, the beauty
of the church is to serve in the city,
and in the light under green stars
is your God,      A God whose standard ||
is the Sun of our Lady   and born Lord,
in the blood of my people,
and male and female servants;
in air's oxygen state;  ||   || | Her hair is gold
New Teagan of American adult films
is in the same way as your watchman
and wife at the United Nations'
story of doctor and baby;    Women's
defective antenna of diet experts
think the name Igor is too fragile; but
When the Spirit of truth,     Latin or Greek,
is the father's name, it is an ancient legend
nature; Arctic, Brazil,     reports that came
in the morning,          Early in the morning
attraction attraction;    To the blind people
It is a picture of God in the window;
Sunscreen on Wall Street is wise,
feminine because no heat used
in the full concentration of women,
The Alchemist's Words || | change
the garden;       changing the idea of ​​the focus
to the psychiatrist,               Russian | | Heroes
are the oldest ones;
Where are the Jews?
All members of Christ,
into the hole of almost all;
school involvement in Virginia,
French French is a green tea
Social social society; From country to country,
from the Black Hills, the girl was
very successful smoking and meeting
with freedom in the sand of the mighty men,
and she endured the sand waiting for her meals,
Viewing from the bed of beds from the Hills,
Hills, *******, rifles and works to write
in the language cut from the south;
the wise Disks || | | and servers are Happy
in that a Number has hit; Betty making glory
for themselves,      but the angel took her ***;
John M.'s Museum of America is in
England, our goats are eating leaves;
About Einstein's wife's football they know not,
neither do they know; for he hath kept the law;
starting when the creators accepted
the word coming
from net-net; Or so begging, started
to appear in the stocks to the bean counters
who read, and do not die by the seashore
in paradisiacal cities, the city started it.
And as she is the daughter  of Gloria,        
Flavor   invited   her to the Fort Lauderdale
BBQ  | 's                      Lighted
                              Are­a, based
on when the bomb had conquered the genes
to committing adultery   with her daughters
without distinction;
And the city               |       to the Olive Tree
is near,
And they began to speak,        |    and to ****
                                           |||  |||   the enemy |||||

i.

I think meetings are like satsumas;
the skin
can peel
off in
tiny pieces,
your fingers will get covered in the juice
and you can spend hours picking off the white stringy bits
and then the fruit will taste sweet and it will be all worth it.

Or it peels off in one easy motion and it’s all full of pips or it’s dry or it’s bitter and that’s like meetings.

Meetings are strange because they can go on forever or they can be over in a minute.

Some people you meet everyday.
Others you meet once and never see them again.
My parents had the second type of meeting.
They met at a bus stop and my mother complained about the weather and my father agreed it was too hot and then he gave her his number and then she called him.
He became her window cleaner.
He moved in.
They lived in the same house.
They never saw each other.

Everything was terrible.
They never met again.
They drew up different lists:
Frankie, Rae, Teagan.
Genevieve, Emily, Jessica.
Somehow it became something else that neither particularly liked and the outside world didn’t much like it either. They locked the doors and I watched from the window.

Why don’t you go out? Don’t go out.

Everything was terrible.
Mother saw it on the TV.
Father saw it through other people’s windows.
But I can seem never break the peel.
It doesn’t come off in one easy motion
and it doesn’t come off in pieces.
It doesn’t come off at all.

But I am the girl from the cobweb;
I am the spider who stopped catching flies.
From the smell of gravy and soapy water to the kebabs and urban fox.

Meetings. Where do I begin?

ii.

Adrian Wren was wondering how many leg bones
it would take to build a wall around his house,
or rather round his old house.
The bones would have to go around the neighbour’s houses too
so he supposed it would take quite a lot of bones to go round all the houses.

He was writing an article about a murderer who kept the leg bones of his victims.
This was not a crucial element.
It was supposed to be about the murderer’s childhood,
in which the murderer was the victim.
The childhood did not answer the question: why leg bones of the victims?
The bones were building up in his head.
How would you glue bones together?
Adrian began typing;
the isolation and loneliness of being a middle child, the least favourite son.
The problem with being the victim.

It was actually kind of funny, when he thought about it.
Why a leg bone? Why not something smaller, that could be hidden?

Adrian wondered if the girl in the red boots thought about things like that. The girl who had knocked on the door of the too small flat to use his shower and borrow a cup.

Her shower,
she said,
kind
        of
            just
                   dripped.

iii.

Sometimes, I tell lies. Or not quite lies. Half truths. For example:
• These shoes belonged to a dead woman.
• Sea cucumbers can use their internal organs as a defence  mechanism.
• My cousin nearly died whilst attempting to eat a match.

I just want to tell something to someone but I don’t always have the real story, so I tell a not quite story. Or ask a not quite question. For example:
• What would life be like if humans had shells?
• Do we have shells?
• What do people living on mountains do with their faeces?

Right now, I’m looking at the flecks on the carpet, trying to find faces. Once, there was a house built above a graveyard and faces appeared on the floor. I wish there were faces on this floor. I wish I lived above a graveyard.

I live on the ground floor, above the bins. It’s interesting to watch what people have to put in the bins.

If only you’d concentrate on something important as much as you concentrate on that window.

But here’s the man from four floors away, putting his ******* in the bin. His clothes frown, his hair frowns, his whole being frowns. Frowns are like creases ironed into clothes, but who is the iron, what are the clothes?


*iv.

Adrian Wren was still trying to solve the riddle.
Most people thought they gave cryptic clues
about themselves but they were actually
just the conventional ones reworded.
This was a real riddle.
It was about her and it wasn’t about her.
It began with a J and ended with an I.
Anything could fit in between.

Jaci? Jessi?

She had a habit of appearing,
maybe at the bottom of the stairs.
Adrian was somehow angry at her,
just for being there,
sitting on the stairs,
picking a spider out of her hair,
walking out then coming back in as
if to test she really knew the code.
He was trying to write up an argument about people
on benefits but the space bar
keptgettingstuckandthewordsgotclumpedtogetherintonewwordsthat­noonehadanysuggestionsfor.

Jenni? Jodi? Juli?

Sometimes, he was certain she was trying to steal something.
Other times, she was one of those strange specimens
who attached themselves to another, because of an accidental look.
Mostly, she was just the girl in the boots without a name.

Jerri? Josi? Jani?*

Adrian found that the riddle hung
                                                             on
                                                             the edge
                                                              of­ the mind,
an itch which wasn’t really too itchy.

There were other things to worry about:
• Work
• Old things reopening
• Work
• Ignoring the phone
• Work
• A knocking at the door.
• Do you mind, if I come in – it’s just there’s this programme on telly and-

v.

Just tell me your name. He didn’t want to play this game.
Only, it was addictive, now he’d got started.
Now, it was a matter of having to know.
I gave you all the clues I’m giving, she grinned.


Joni,
Adrian said finally,
looking back at the screen
of his laptop.

vi.

Joni-Rae.
It was hyphenated because they couldn’t decide,
because they never really met.

Sometimes, people will call me Joan if they hate nicknames and Johnny if they can’t pronounce it.

Joni-Rae, but actually only ever Joni.
Begins with a J and ends in an I.
Does that still count, if I amputated part of it?
His middle name was nearly Ray too.
Adrian Ray Wren. Too many Rs.

I’m still looking for my middle name though. Does it mean I’m missing a bit of my meaning? Is there a bit of me I haven’t met just yet? Can we meet ourselves or only other people?

Birds of night and girls; even breast cancer
with a headache, the stomach's content,
and the verse of the queen, principle must|
be present; I die in great numbers;
The death penalty for Clara,  her beauty
is in the city under the stars of the green
of the god of the gods of the earth;
Go to the flag of the sun's sea of ​​corn,
the cost of Jesus' blood, though I am
a ******, you take America away
from the actual fire of heaven; your hair
is of golden pear, and of Teagan children
is the latest spot in the American media
half of the tough old bride of the United
Countries, called outkeepers and children
of history, female aerial diet and the
refinement of lunch, the words of our group,
water; The boy thought about delicate
Igor's name; They will walk with the spirits
of truth, English or Greek forms of ***** feet,
father of an ancient name of nature;
Brazil is blown, it is morning, morning
that he stays in the favorite attraction
worldwide and follows a blind man
to the window of the Goddess who left
the picture; Ural Sunscreen on Wall Street,
feminine women write full of heat not
found in Alchemy's Dreams | Paradise
changes her name by reading the mirror
of their brains, Russian | | Heroes
have babies;The pitched tents of the Jews
would be like children to the holes
in the mind of Christ; Regarding the school's
contribution to Virginia with the cold gods
of the French General wearing the social
colors of the Society who spoke up; From
country to country, take the Black Hill
girl's virginity with care, of course, booster
boosts smoking and meets with freedom
fighters and children from sand;  sand of the
ground of food waiting for the table;      The
bedside beds of Maria Hills watching the
******* of the firearms,          then the police,
they write a language;          cut to the south,
away from the original temples of the smart
devices of prostitutes || | |  the separator will
be happy fun holiday,    so letting the beats
Be Beat,           Bettie waves the walls of Glory
Glory,         but an angel who is secretly hiding
to get at Marcus in John's Museum in America
on a corner of leaves that are good under
Einstein's wife; playing football works
like a fool to understand the natural law;
Start with the eggs,                     get word of cataracts
clinging, if not,                         the muscles and beans
begin having read,     you will die on the paradisiacal
coast of the city to come.              Call to a gypsy girl
in yellow yellow enough to be in the light
of the light of the wilderness.                    The source
of a great bomb attack such as genes,
sexually immoral *** and witchcraft,
the girl was near the army and the Oil
of the city and started to speak but only as an enemy |||||

The reds of the night and the girls of white;
the long body of the mother with the hot head,
bare abs, feet of a queen; the poet must be present
but I died in the great space of Clara's death,
her beautiful black snooch in a young city
under the stars on the green || earth of the goddess
of the earth; Going to the flag of the sun,
the seas of corn, paying the price of the blood
of Jesus although my spirit dreamed of saving
America from the true fires of heaven;
her hair of the golden poetry of the children, | ||
Teagan finds a fresh spot in the middle
of the American media, of the tough old wife
of the United States, who calls the street kittens
and the | children| of history , the feminine aerial
violation and the renewal of the lunar words
of our brotherhood, the water; The boy thought
about the delicate hands of Igor; and how they
will walk with the true spirits, English or Greek
forms of ***** writing, father of an ancient
name of the nature of the wind, Barbie
was made in the Image of morning's voice
emerging from a cloud sweet kisses; The world
accompanied a blind window of the Goddess
who leaves
the image; The solar secrets of Ural
on Wall Street, |    and a gay woman written
full of heat,       invisible |to the children
of Alchemy's Dream | Paradises change| |
their history by reading the mirror
of the| brain, the Russian | | Heroicum
of the child; The fields of the feelings
of the Jews would like their children
to be holes in the lips of Christ; The cat
of a friend of the school, ******
with damp gods of French Generals
who wear the colors of the arms
of the Society that speaks; From country
to city, take care of the daughter
of Black Hill, of course, the rich cat Bob
dances, smoking and meeting with free
strippers and the children from |the sand
painting land of food waiting for the table;
From the plastic bed Maria Hills watches
the ******* of the firearms,
eating the police,  | | they wrote a tongue;
cut to the south, leaving the first temples
of a genius machine for eyeing prostitutes ||
| | the separator plays Happy Birthday,
lest the Beat poet Bettie wave to the walls
of Glory's mother,     but the smoky angel
that burns in secret is taken to the Marcus
John Museum of America to a corner
of the leaves that smells good;         under
Einstein they married; playing football
and acting like a madman,  understanding |||
that natural law Begins with the teeth
and takes the world of the cataracts
clinging to a nullity; **** and a crazy
beginning of reading,     you will die
on the paradisiacal beach of the city
to come. Calling a gypsy yellow is enough
in the warm light of the desert.  The origin
of the weapon of the great wind
broke the ghost,       the **** and fresh ***
of the daughter of the teenage witch
approaches the Host Corporation
of the rhythm and begins |to speak but only ||||||||||||||||||||
as a bright adversary |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Nocturnal birds and children, breast cancers
with painful headaches, he is content;
Queen of principles that there must be
already; Die many deaths.The goal of the bright
beauty is the city under the green stars
in God, God's standard The Sun ****** Mary,
and how to,                  By the Lord's blood even
                                 my maid is from the States'
Light air;                               Your hair is golden
pear and fresh,                                          Teagan;
American media spots the adult actress;
An old man and his young wife toughing out
the United Nations' history to the doctor,
and son, and women and the aerial decay
of breakfast; he words of the members
of our youth think about the name
of the Igoriki be fragile; they are when the Spirit
of truth, Latin or Greek
the kind with henna on her feet,     the ***** kind,
the name of his father, an old man,            nature;
Brazil report that is in the morning
Early in the morning wind attraction
In the world that is blind,       Who has the image
of God, out of the window;                   Sunscreen |
is the wisest on Wall Street,            |   masculinity
does not seem to use the heat of the full
participation of women,                the Alchemical |
Resources | change paradises;
||
some of them are changed, and learning of the nerves
mentally, Russian | |           Heroes are Newly                
born on the Site of Jewish children
and in the caves of the whole of Christ 's heart:
almost all contributions to schools in Virginia;
In general there is a nylon green rooster,
Social society colors; From country to country,
Black Hill young women without supervision,
of course, strongly enabling cigarettes
and meetings with independence
fighters in the sands;       and waiting for food
at the the view from the sea bed to bed
Hills, *******, firearms,          and officers have
to learn the language;             cutting the south
off from the wise;    the device prostitution || | |
servers do Happy Days,        they hit the beat;
Gloriously, Bettie lives,           but to the Angel
who took her secretly,        John M.'s museum
in America's angle with leaves; By Einstein's
wife; football is stupid,     to know the legality,
start when the eggs receive word
that the cataracts of the net's grip;
do not, so it is,   they begin in the muscle,
and beans, is read, and you shall not die
on the beaches in the paradisiacal garden,
city ​​time.          And is the daughter of Glory
enough for Flavor Flav and the wilderness.
Source the impact of the bomb as genetics,
sexually illegitimate, and the girl's brain;
And the city, for the oil it is near, And they
began to speak,    so that they the enemy, but ||||| . . .