Friday, November 30, 2007

Hurry up


What am I going to do with all this stuff? What to do with all this schooling, with these books, re-read bits of poems, a beautiful sleepy woman in bed with me, with dry air-induced sore throats and bloody noses, with wanting to pray, with caring that I don't care that I have a bad tattoo, a patchy beard, that I sometimes try to not believe in God but end up grinning because I don't know what I'm talking about, with sentimentality and not being able to write, a wine-soaked mustache, with memories that may or may not be false, piles of dirty dishes, broken promises to make bread, forgetting to feed the cats, a leaky faucet, daydreaming about naps, with dry skin, my love for America, what am I to do with my unabashed hatred of the rich, my watching others watch movies to make sure they are laughing or taken by surprise? I sense a beginning and an ending, though they are the same.

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