These chairs dry nice, but the changed
brown of the deck, and the long shiny blades
of grass make me think mosquitoes, adopt
a fighters pose with the throat covered,
and already my thoughts to be away. On
the other hand the damp impressive morning
nature sits me in awe of it. The air is cold and
my torso is hardened, and the great tree
leans over me, and above that the police heli
copter describes slow circle. Everything is
shocked by the water, though this has always
been like this the birds talking shit thru their
apartment windows. The fences are drooping:
last year the neighbors couldn’t see my balls be
ing scratched by me like this so now I must
portray a rose more sub than comes natural.
I must lower myself, and see me in their seeing
lowered too. Also their seeing my seeing. I will
have to mend the fences, theres no other way.


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