Lunch Hour (2)

I’m here now, at work, in cubicle mode,
Typing what I have seen and felt and heard.

Casting the net over time.
Something like that.

Ed wants to take mescaline.
He got the idea from some book he’s reading.

On the subway a ranting panhandler
Shared with the held hostage riders

His discovery of masturbation
And the passion he came

To have not for women but for walls.
A mother glared while holding tight to her baby boy.

The phone has just rung, the caller someone
Who doesn’t like me in the way that I like her.

Noted: My sister-in-law has a spare bedroom,
Somewhere in Florida.

Is that a problem,
Given that my brother is deceased?

A dream from the other night.
A penis growing out of my knee.

Detail: it had the firmness
Of a wilted stalk.

Peanut butter and pita bread
And two oranges for sustenance.

It’s been going on like this for days.
Counting the pennies.
Trying to keep things from flying apart.

November 2003