& see that constellation, grub? those stars are called "brooklyn."
so the television turns off & with my wine-stained lips i tumble to the mat. in the morning she leaves for the midwest for the weekend- i tell her that her teddy bear will look after me. i'll make her orange marmalade sandwiches; bears like that sort of thing. so now i'm fuzzleheaded morning mordicai, distracted by the bosun's whistle. bellyfull of pomegranate seeds & a handful of shadows. but really i'm still all stheno & euryale this morning, lets ignore the feint. omae apparition. ghosts of stone age memories; trilobites & ammonites, other things which end in -ite. ravine, rapine; something birthed too soon into the world, hungry with wonder. something with arms bound down by petticoats, 1913. maybe my girlfriend will come back from illinois & remember how much she wants to hang off me like a snake hangs off a tree. soak in me like i'm tea leaves. i have a pet cricket, that i keep in a small bamboo cage? i feed her gin. what could be greater than that? i read intresting books, my spacious apartmets lit only by jars of fireflies! below my bedroom there is a grotto of many delightful things from days gone past; fossils of angels. above my bedroom, black shiny androids!