April frigging 6
Meat pies delivered daily from tuck shop the chalkboard improvisionally utters to a chump's eye. Somewhere in the thick of the grip of the shit that must be said to be gotten out of the way. Can I sit in your lap and watch kitty videos? No, I have to go to work. Can I go to work with you? We can walk outside together. Earlier I felt — how's that radiation going — like a — I misheard that, now they are saying things like "she's a new girl" — bartender & medical worker of other type — I felt like an old creep making younger wobbly guys give me their opinions on things: "he had all these great lines! & then they just kept coming one after the other & it started to make me crazy." Look of indignation on early morning L train face. Inside that recreation a phone rang. I did not ignore the phone but I did ignore the call. This afuturistic handling of little pads, first aid for choking, and yet the company came with dog & I moved, no, was. Don't be coming over to join me this bird says, you hover and take up shade, you simplify into unwinged liftoff, you bear scars of an individually unremarkable nature, you stop nothing. I'll stay here without joining you, I say, and create as little energy in your vicinity as I can disimagine. Fuck you and your disimagination, this bird, now beginning to resemble Allen Ginsberg, yells at me.
Copyright © 2011 by Anselm Berrigan. Used with permission of the author.