I can't think of anything else
to talk with you about. We have
discussed our jobs, our daily commute,
Old people cry too much.
They walk in the morning
to the railway station.
Whereas time has caught up with me and the boiler
broken down again, and day after day it snows and snows
and there I am, with my shovel, in the dark
Guy asks me for $1.80 on the subway.
White guy, bald, shirt and tie.
Says they towed his car with his wallet in it.
The boy returns home with blue hair.
The dog understands everything we say.
He is wearing an lampshade around his neck.
Small green couch in the living room. I come home at night and sit in it.
'Law & Order' is on TV. I have a glass of cheap cabernet and make eggs
for dinner. It gets later and later. I hit the mute button and listen
An old man arrived at my door with light bulbs.
I opened the door a crack
and asked what he wanted. He said he wanted
Father Ray Byrne quickly became
a star. He played sports, danced,
sang, told jokes. He was a man
All last night I kept speaking in this
archaic language, because I had been reading
Poe and thinking about him. I read 'The Murders