noviwan

I read the paper.  "Many harmed... The Fire fighters have since swarmed... Town engulfed...."  I'm not alarmed. A good day's work.  My hands are warmed.

Full of energy, I am the clown. Then the magnet turns around. A million worries I have found. Someone turn the volume down.

The wind blows and the water drips and the public phone on the platform rings for no one in particular. The pigeons are gray. A train arrives, not mine, of course, with a screech that would make the pigeons fly except that they ignore it. The train is gray. Red-haired woman with a big suitcase, a pillar of independence as she boards the train struggling through the thin doorway. Her suitcase rolls. Car 971 digests its commuters with a satisfied exhalation of rust-colored steam. It will be hungry again by Downingtown. The train rolls. Waiting for the late train for a questionable interview while my breath swirls on a drizzling

Broke through my carapace. I vanish without a trace. Fifty-two cards.  Today the ace. What is my voice, my brain, my face?

Leave me alone.  Can't you see the dirt? And that soap's been used once, I assert! Don't make me miss my program!  I'm on alert. The water is boiling, but it doesn't hurt.

It's not so bad, being insane. New experiments in pain, Tasty stuff in this here drain, I get to hang with Kurt Cobain.