Random Rules

Some Endings

Feasible vision under bed linen, you are here and you are here.

strangely enough, that '61 talkie was on tv last night - black, white,

"absolutely not". Your parting words, your queer wrangling

intoxicated, acting sober - Misfit Flat. A beer a year

would say my friend Mitch, whose dad passed not long ago

came summer. There's the sky again, as shallow as creek

God willin'. It will. We both know. Back in my bed again, red

jubilantly delinquent. I have already lost one tooth and it is

not even September. Nothing has happened under this dead

streetlamp. I am not unaware, just being aggressively fictive.

Some practical concerns include my teenage years that were

bent away from their assigned post. I forgot where and am already

starting to cry. Looking up, I make out stars and walking papers -

my very own - burn to white. Some endings never end.