Be an idiot
Wakened
In the morning I discovered that someone had
plugged my spinal cord into the wall socket
next to my bed. So I start thinking—finally,
at least now I think I know what to expect.
Later I nursed a coffee on a park bench, waiting
to share fruit salad with my pretty therapist. She
arrived smelling like her children's urine, made
gestures, held up a pocket mirror and traversed
a list of pertinent questions, then stood and swung
her foxy legs into a cab to catch a connecting
flight to another city—and I was free at last—to
set my course & destination. I walked deep
inside the park to a tangled place avoided by cops
where homeless people rest easy and my friends
hang out—slouching beasts who don't bug me with
chatter because we speak in the language of flame.
