And on and on...

I ain't writing no more of these damn reviews about poets and poems I didn't want to read. Get me out of this place where words are turned into something sinister, remind me why we practice writing with our right hands, write only to write off the ones whose writing isn't enough for us to manipulate and turn into something good enough for you. If I've told you once, I've told you a time or two that nothing is ever as confusing as it could potentially, depending on the weather, seem or feel or what is that word on the fifteenth page of the dictionary next to a picture of some Eden fruit that sort of looks like a greener kind of pineapple but with a different hairstyle... Wait... was that a question? Questioning whether or not it qualifies might be the problem in the first place because every good man knows that when you ask a drug addict which was is up, he's going to point to his insides and mumble sorry and i just miss eating birthday cake and tears are just as good as bottled water. There's no point to much of anything except forgiving people who tend to forget to apologize when their anger gets the best of them. We can't help how we feel so we rub each others hands together, press fresh fingertips crimson covered and wet along each others, and apologize for practice because marriage gets boring. There's nothing wrong here, with you or me, or the way things are. All we must do is see things differently they tell us every time. So Lorraine and I raise our hands to the sky and force our legs to defy gravity, scream as the toes dance in the air, return to the ground. Little ones, little ones. It's not normal to feel good. That's a good way to think about things. Another thing to consider is that it's not really garbage if you just bury it behind the sage bushes in the backyard and don't tell anyone about it. I wonder where Jeff is now, and if he's still wandering around Berkeley leaving notes for people he has no intention to meet, if he stopped smoking herb in favor of starting over. It's not like you changed my life - you just changed everything else. My hair turned gray when we met. So I cut it all off and planted it in the middle of People's Park and you can go there to this day and you'll see sage bushes and hummingbirds and homeless humming words to that song we can't remember the tune of exactly. HE WILL REMIND YOU is carved along his shoes, filled in slightly with crimson and birthday cake and little ones, little ones.