hi james. iâm sorry i havenât even started reading your poems.
imagine business, trade, traffic of any variety as things.
but i saw a girl hock & spit into someoneâs front yard.
yesterday, a (different) girl tripped, hard, corrected herself.
both quickly glanced around. whipped their teenage hair. the car
envelops me. what is travel like? iâve been listening to talk radio, but
everything will pass. like girls ambling the suitable footpath.
i am privy to all the âwhat does he want for his birthday?â texts.
imagine your life without decisions. youâd have far
less freedom, but might possess a high-speed car.
people were clustering for chats in the supermarket.
much more than usual. i overheard âi just wanted
to move some blue into the room.â will i ever
decorate interiors, james? iâm a terrible critic.