Aretha and Giacometti
The mule stands just so to get that slice of morning glow.
You remove a horsefly from your coffee.
It's a short life so full of insects.
When you say, "Look at that," I look at the same time.
We never talk.
You had a crash, next thing you know, a shot of morphine. Morphine has no hair, no book, no man, and no money. Can she be redirected? You are lying on the floor near the door. Everything you own is dripped with paint. The fan turning could cut off your fingers. It has your thinking. You feel a decrease in hunger. It's a drift off of your central nervous system like a horizon line stick figures dance on. It's easy being chipper in your house with its open windows, flowers, and paintings, but what about your Bob?
You'll eat soon and have a little book with your food.
I'm sorry; did I cut you off? There are many Manchesters, many writers of the same book, many seekers that have come down.
lie down too
You dream you take a sleeping pill and sleep.
You look through the holiday ham to the bone and have visions.
It is sunny and flat and perfect.
Cows lie in the snow in the air direct from Labrador.
The sheep and the chair lie down too.