largely drunk on exhaustion, these days. floating in those insensate hazes brought on by too much coffee & too little patience. in this fog i come upon the world, like the tuatha de daanan coming upon hibernia. i with in places without memory, as forgotten as any other trash littering the alleyway. gosh, i don't know. i feel like i've gone awol from some war for mexican idependence. wishing wings for sabers. all confused about the state of my inhabitance of a house; did my long lost love die in this room, on this matress with this mysterious stain? did i lose my virginity & gain my manhood on a divan in this small corner? was this chamber once aloud with mariachis? did this bluebottle die on this windowsill while i watched, fascinated? fascinated by its struggling legs & slow movements. trapped in the amber of death.