Behind the closed door the fat woman is laughing.
Enormous in volume it is,
Far more than the stars can adjust to.
Pouring out of her office like a rowdy river,
Sweeping chairs and files and desks
And the stinky lunch of my loathsome colleague
Out the window and into the congested streets.I am flying now in a downward spiral,
The urgency of the situation requiring me
To place on hold listening devices and
Other nefarious instruments for entrapment
That tally a syllable count of every swear word
You ever thought, with bonus points for fuck.
Some song of yearning I recall had been playing,
Some need to come out of hiding
And join those strutting others
On the promenade of brandished talent
Or even some pathway in the park where
Desire could meet its mate.I will leave alone the question as to what led me
To hide here and elsewhere in the first place.Dizzy now with fear, I have this to say:
A blank page can be a friend.
You could fill it up.
Something might happen.
A connection. A home run.
Oh, yes,
To have said I’m here, if not forever.
Will you at least try to know what I mean?June 2005
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