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May 2






When in my sarcasm I suggested that you ‘guess again’, I realized that you were in fact guessing, guessing about everything, guessing in order to create a process of elimination, a tool on which I now recognize you entirely depend.  Guessing as a way of life is a tragedy.  I’m not saying that trying to know every last thing in the world is an acceptable alternate goal, but to reach an adult age and not even be able to work your way up to a possible hunch is scary, scarier than even my sarcasm, which at this moment seems interminable, but I’m sure you guessed that.




Make a list of your favorite fingers








Anticipation of the approaching traffic consumes.

The tiny spec grows and develops into the arriving vehicle

50 miles per and the rapid succession of the coming

And those leaving eats quickly at my heart.


The pain seers me

Why are these who travel from the direction of my destination

Passing me by?

For miles and miles they appear to be greeters


The breeze created by their passing chaps my face

And questions my goals

How can so many abandon my objective?

But flee they do.


My hunger does not diminish

And I press on

Of course if we all went this way, we might tip the globe

Maybe that’s what they fear.