I've tried the fancy devices and the pretty
papers, and I remember when time was measured
in lines and stanzas as opposed to hours upon
hours without any feeling in your ass. Sometimes
that is when you can think the best; when there's
no feeling in your ass.

At other times they will throw you a few
Lennons, two Jims and a Christ, and there's
nothing you can do about it. One thirty
in the morning is that special touch, save
the new face in that usual pack of ivrognes
sitting in the cooler seat over in the corner,
or even the whole process to begin with.

Spilling truth is like coming of age too early.
Decency is some kind of bore set
aside for the losers, "just another try," and
a specifically underestimated stamp of approval.
The first whistle was the beginning, and already
the second sees the end. But no matter. The
water still boils when heated.

Common mistakes are corrected instead of altered.
That's a fact worthy of fortune telling, and
a common mistake in itself. There are
people in this world, and some of them go so
far as to actually pretend individuality. It doesn't
take long to waste time in twenty six lines, and it
will never again take as long to find a sandwich for
the family.
 
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