“If you show me you love me

What would it change

If I loved you and it changed me

What would it change.

If your love has no power to change the parts of it that make it risky.

Than your love is a liability my friend.”

Said the bag lady to the pair of women’s shoes in her hands.

wearing on her feet

Pieces of the news.

And in the shopping cart

An empty suite case

And a bag of tent stakes.

But she’s only talking to the shoes.

There are no more stories

Only columns in the moving news. Offering comfort for the streaming lives with the moral neutrality it takes to get them to do what they are told.

In pictures…

In quotes…

The lessons find you

And you feel less remote

But is this what you believe

Relating your faith

To a square on a screen

with your image

In its proper place.

like a comic strip

Like a punch line

And if you laugh you relate

Do you not.

She read aloud from the changing paper. Asking it like a horoscope to asses the risk of hart and hardness.

“Your barely your own person

don’t try this loving business.

You’ll only go to deep

no one In this market Barters with the rest of the rest of their lives. Dear we all have currents in our pockets. All that forever means is as long as I can get away it with for.

If anyone is constantly asking you to commit to forever they must have a benefit that they are receive that they have fear of loosing…

The first step in changing your forever to the now is no more making hopes around the future.

Just pick a direction you want your future to go and use your choices to aim your present moment in that direction. How and when the things you want get to happen is up to the future.

The second step to finding the now is no more discussing any behavior from the past.

Confronting a behavior could put the focus of the time you have to spent together on one of the things that you do not like. You do not want to create a magnetic expectation that the moments of life that bothered you will repeat themselves, by addressing or discussing.

Behavior from the past is old news. Every one is in competition for the only opportunity they get to win laughter or joy in the moment they have. Instead of addressing issues with the character of the one you think you love, use the opportunity to let the fun of the now get pulled into your moments with or without the person you love. Try laughing…”

She Puts down the paper

And let’s go of the future she had with him. Not realizing that only moments prior that she had against at her better judgment moved him from the present column to the future column.

But she knew how quick the slide was and how few came back to friends.

He was now a moment to pass, and then only moments before he was the one who got to make comfy with her heart like it was new futon in a poorly bolted metal folding frame.

A pressure to her aft slides beneath her summer dress as she leans and searches for him walking from the closest stop to meet them both.

And out the silent window

She hears the slides

And the children stand in line behind a rubber tube and slide.

And broken glass bottle make music sliding on the neck of the lap flat guitar.

And there’s grease beneath the feet and the iron is on the tile floor. First comes the slip, followed by

The slide…

And slide like a screen door after an angry smoke by two nonsmokers feeling serious and straight . The very smell of it causes them both to choke and cough.


Meanwhile on broken ankles there is a character fighting romanticized connection to characters

in the movie speed.

The bus is moving fast and the

Driver won’t blow this one up,

You trust your bus driver.

Because with broken ankles you have become once again afraid of your favorite thing. To walk.

To walk away,

To walk the line,

To walk the dogs in order of the colored leash.

To walk into the arms of any who has the feet that work while your wait cripples your every moment.

After the news, and tea,

After a foot race with the boys

After the stairway and she removed her bracelets.

On the pillow she screamed crying “no that is not what I meant at all.” And then she fell without a fall. Found substance between the substantial and actual. And had an factual development with her ability to reason the problem.

If your disability effects your ability to engage responsibility,

Please disengage.

No one singed up for those types of disabilities. I made it this far without taking care of anyone but my heavy self. And the children friends I get to choose.

The stain from the thrown bowl of spaghetti and the two dog leashes that were once around the neck tried to love as he eulogizes himself at his own funeral wearing three pairs of funeral shoes.

He uses the pulpit to address himself in the midst of black out reasonings spree. He spends all day thinking hard about how to do the right thing for the wrong people.

And asked the man with the shovel to reduce the price of barrial if he fills the dirt himself.

“Do you want to know the truth. Dear…” he asked

“Self disclosure makes me ill!”

She replied ready to to make herself her space after evicting the drunk and maddening romantic.

“The truth

When people talk about Rvs’ I want to die.

When I see cast iron I feel warm.

I still think they were meeting her behind the tent against the tree.

I still think there was a revenge plan from the bigining that was outlined in a child’s set of Christmas trees in the drawing of an attic.

I still think the pictures that were sent to you minutes before for you sold me down the river creek.were an old game Of blackmailing, passion, submission, obedience and a love that was not for me.

When I look across the horizon

I see the mountains of the struggle between love and life, your face in the clouds licking the peaks of snow caps.

Suggesting that the mountains have taken possession of another dreamer. She no longer desires to tout a mole hill.

With tunnels to the place where we search for the army of the monkeys welcomed so politely to

the monkey house.

Not finding what we thought we had but still finding it.

The stars wide open gate is greeted

With the rays and gravitation

And now we’re being touched by the same sunlight.

You should use this universe, it is plagued by the forgetful bliss of the spotless mind. The vicious and demanding side of memory’s unsavory returning to its own self important version of the story. Mainly memory hunts desirous. sensations and sweet longings. The time travel and forget me gun like the portals and weapons of forgetfulness.


She appears to be on the phone with a child in his 30s.

She is more parent than partner, more possessive than present,

and she reads from the changing paper to the child on the phone.

“Life won baby.

With some argument about disorder being the root of expensive crime centers

Like strip malls

And dilapidated flop houses

And dilapidated trap house

And dilapidated section eight housing.”

Adding in a sultry soothing yoghurt and mango voice,

These words of her own;

“Which means if you yell, baby you’re only fighting order, and order always wins.”

And he said in return

“No, you always win.”

And she threw back at him.

“I don’t care if I always win

As long as you always loose.”

And it wasn’t right and it hasn’t been right. Not since the doubt found every one around his funeral guests lists and questioned them promising coffee and cigarettes.

The doubt propped his sphyche and sequestered who it needed to, then the doubt told the passers bye he’s always been that way and that there must be some right to take away. Or a pill that would take the mad and hurried speech away


The piece of cheese next to the Mint juleps and a handwritten last minute birthday day note.

Said finally to the parlor guests.

“When I walk into the new slimmer skin it’s not that there is health in mind. Or working out of muscular cores and forms.

No, it’s only the old me with the rot trimmed only past the taste point. In a fridge that smells stagnant. It’s just the middle of what is left of the cheese.

We gave homage to the rats with. every shaved layer of molded cheddar hoping that waste of best intentions will a-peal more. While being very spotted calf with our selection of sacrifice.”

On the buss next to a woman talking to her shoes while the man with broken ankles speaks on the phone.

“I have 2 miles of walking to do before I’m home.

I broke both my ankles.

I’m being a dick to proveI can do it.

Like that kid from wise blood with rocks in his shoes.

Who mumbled words about penitence and being redeemed”

“So you think you’re redeemed?”


She rushed me home and kept me there.

In the snow and colder air

She kept me warm and unaware.

Lost in the twirling of her hair.

She held my head in many ways

I held her hart in alcohol

And bruised the fruit

Of her loving side

And me twirling on a pin,

Pinned like a Greco Roman ultimatist. To another brick in the wall that I’m up against.

I was such a Shakespearian rag man.

So elegant so inteligente. I was every moment in your mind and you in my mind like a hungry insect wanting to ride sweet waves of dying brain and caged revenge.

It was not

Until I found you hiding behind the door which read, I’ll take it to the grave.

Hidden loves, unforgiving unforgotten contracts of body and heart, and I the accessory to the secure facade of a undying faith. Revenge on the one who had made your game of breaking the little loves and taking care of your own needs. They asked you with their eyes as you bent the sink. Men of breakable character and will. Sacrificing prices of control to your desirous gaze.

“Or baby, was I just your patient etherized upon your splendid table

Stuffed with apple and snout out

And eyes that made it to the dish

Completely situationally unaware.

Piggy looking up at Ralf on the hill.

“Today’s my birthday”

Blind and annoyingly talkative without his glasses.”


The last shoes she bought

me were funeral shoes.

And I walked in my funeral shoes to my funeral,

And I worked in my funeral shoes,

And she had my feet always where they should be. Wandering next to hers and tapping beneath the sheets.

He is on the phone with curly cable connecting the phone to the underground city as he rides the buss to work.

“She’s giving me the best chance of me catching myself at my own funeral that I got.

If her plan doesn’t work

there will be no way for you to mock how I eulogize my self at my funeral and I love how you make fun of the dead good in me.


She said looking up from the phone

“that was my mother she’s breaking up with her boyfriend.” As she put down the curly corded rotary phone. The phone was gift from one of the few pictures in her childhood that she could still remember.

He had no idea what was going on and had to be an independent mess of cleanly well intentioned motives and commitments that held to the letters of unspoken vows.

He complained about the draft

“I have lit my Roach more times than they sing la Cucaracha in a grade school Spanish class.”

The beers and marijuana were classless thing for him to sacrifice his maturity to and she did not trust his word that he did not have a secret vice that she would learn about after loosing to the pull of his forgive me charm.

The block of white cheddar

Next to the saltines and Ritz crackers spoke up again.

“I suppose the rats expect something of me, being made up of the things that make up cheese and often in the garbage food they like.”

Then she interrupted the cheese to talk to the camera of her phone.

“Baby, when people think the worst of you. There ain’t nothing you can do about that. I’m on my way to better me all day. Momma said what other people think about me is none of my business.”

There are a set of ceremonies that ride her like a combination lock, like a concierge, elevator, and a skeleton key.

There are a set of ceremonies

in her bedroom with the drying of sheets and the throwing of laundry in places,

Of a mattress and its cover,

Of the way she shoos the lovers, When her heart contemplates the rolls of fathers.

“I have certain memories

on the wall describing moments

in other places

with men who have

quite different faces.”

She points to a picture of us when I was a different man and was infatuated with the very sole in her routine all her conundrums because they were hers and I needed to hear them.

Than she says it

“That is not what I meant at all, no that is not what I meant at all, do not please, keep walking in them The shoes with them rocks in them. You and Enoch you can have yourselves a trip to the zoo and the get the monkey suit and what not.”

The ankles wouldn’t hold the weight. And then came the head upon the plater. The baptist lost his head to a strippers dare. In the family the family debts are paid before the concubine finds a more devastating request and she will.

And then there were earthquakes

Of the delusional lover

And again he was alone ankles that did not work and feet that limped in funeral shoes he wore to work.


He had finished like some finished failure of Jimmy cricket,

And in the ally light reflected on the silver can as the counselor appears.

He will recon with the block of cheese. He will recon with the mole. He will reckon with the funeral shoes and the broken ankles.

“Buddy you know that’s not real

Stop playing with it.“

Tramp Haggard,

Watched over him when the passion and pain caused the danger to swell like sharks around the hearts of those that bled like beacons into a sea of code and plankton and silicone and sand dollars like the snorkels used to spend.

He knew the messages weren’t real. He could always ways talk to tramp about the moral logic that blinded his self preservation.

“Was that her hair next to the tea candles, markers,paint set and the note about 2019?” That the homeless man was rubbing on himself? Did she bring and leave a gift for me.”

“Has she seen me desperate and afraid around the mad men who accused me of cop and made me play the window game and watch the spot and the tents for whores.”

The ideas of reference challenge plain possibilities of the moles hill, the fear and the trauma and of the true and arranged deterrent that companies perceived communication.


Tramp Haggard says to the mole.

“The site on the internet that you go to go find out how her day was, is a random persons website. You don’t know her. She has unrelatedly to your delusion has been impersonal enough to not post her pictures just so you can believe it’s your love with a fake profile. It’s not her but you haven’t stopped acting like it was her life you were following .

“There’s somethings about the posts that just make sense I know it’s her…The dates of the news correspondences.

The friends that laugh at the posts that seem to be in reference to me.

“You Believe she meets with people and gives them instructions to ruin your life still “Tramp continues.


“She doesn’t care, she’s at home she doesn’t want you to try. She doesn’t care. You ended up like the others that she left. Teased and mediocre.”

“But Haggard, she sends me messages me in my search suggestions”

“That’s Google!” Tramp said and then continued holding a conch that he had grabbed off of the beach there in the small room.

“I’m going to explain this to you one last time. You do love a person that you have found, but one that you have constructed her image in the garbage left on the sidewalk curve. You always perceive a message and intent.”

“Yes” the price of cheese said speaking up.

When did this start? think back.

When did the messages start?

My happy mole?

“There were a group who came and saw me and left me be in shame the hid from me in the lightning and left a lint roller for me.”

Do you remembered them before.

The child hood of listening to the voices in walls making out conversations?

“Do you remember the way the books and music spoke to you before you knew what the music maker knew”

tramp Haggard referenced the road trips alone where the mole would make piles of dirt for the yard owner to see.

“The person you love never existed she was always a miss. She was a real girl and she was in front of you. She was there telling you what to do. She connected you to a stable perception of your self. She stood there and loved you while you believed the garbage was saying things that meant so much more.”

“The mole thought about the austere and stoic love that the tree had for the roots that danced beneath the tree.” And looked at tramp.

“Buddy they didn’t love you that much, none of them did not even Jesus loved you as much as your messages in the wind do. This delusion that your loved so much that you got messages left for you in gutter punk garbage allows you to love past your due date. Worst of all you can’t see when a person stops loving you or understand what it means when a person tells you how they want to be loved and that your not doing the job correctly.

The mole just blinked and than patted around his hill as tramp preached to the tunnel rat. Tramp handed the mole a tall silver beer can.

“Your a special little tunnel builder, I’m Sure you can dig your way back to where you were before”

Tramp continued his point as the burrow rodent became intoxicated.

“None of this was about you and it never was. The women, woman, wives, girlfriends wanted it to be about them and in the end here you are with your hill and your secret messages sent by people who never bought you gifts. People who were not patient with your way of fucking up the greener grass.They finished with you and pandered you because they could. It was the thing to do, you were nieve.

It’s probably better that the trash you see says I love you. No one else is going to do it. You’ve been terrible to all of them. Trust me from your ex’s to the next you are a ruined commodity mole.

“There is only her the one behind it all” the mole scurried.

“Do you remember the message by the dumpster when you were hustling magazines with dispossessed younger looking

Older youth. “

“There was an Easter basket, a baby toy a few meaningful items telling me to leave, telling me the unborn child had died died. It was the third time for her since she met me.

One miscarriage with the one before that,

Late term.

“Had you met the one behind it all back then?”

“She must be different then them all and from before the south of fifth but I know this is her.”

“Your self love follows you around and gives you pagan gifts? You believe people are paid to have loud conversations out loud in front of so you can ease-drop Devine instructions.

You believe your lovers take out their obvious disdain for you by manipulating your future. You want the truth mole no one cares about you face it. Your so selfish you don’t understand what you would have to do to love someone real. All you have to do is is see them there and not create a grand delusion of a person they were not. That loved you more than they could. Soon they show affection through anger and hate.”

You never had a single one of them and they never had you.

“I thought about a cold day in Long Island when there was something going on with the roles we had addressed.

Then I was asked what I wanted and I saw the choice that would end my hold on family, I knew It was on me for that”

“What did you dig for in Long Island?” Haggard asked the mole.

“Beets, and celeriac, and sweet potato’s, that you could eat raw.”

“You do not need to be worshipped like you expect from those that share your drunken bed”

“The farmers used to let the moles move the soil in the night, at some point, they withdrew consent but gave into the tide of the growing season. Then felt the need to establish a boundary and let you know they were done with the touching part of the nightly touches”

All this tells us is that the love ended for them before they had a way to slow down your constant dribble of affection and meaningless I love yous.

You were a trapping and dedicated presence to those who wanted to trap you in their lives. Then they snapped at you to get the one thing you never give when love is on the table and trust is out the window; dedication.


There was a list of names on the dedication at the funeral by the tree. All people I hoped would stop bye and say something about him who had failed. Alone he viewed his tombed and wasted corpse.

A brother or a sister called him

And he stopped speaking to himself

They said

“The people who are getting paid to protect her will come with sirens up the road if she thinks your going to contact her now than, the police are ready.”

There was a relationship with someone that he had been in for years and she was visiting hard.

She was fully delusion

Misconstrued composite of

All the sentimental moments

That he could not put to death

The one who helps you in your search suggestions.

The one who sends messages in garbage in the contents on the curb.

A sacred secret service to validate your phycosis.

The mole poked his head out of a hole beneath the coffin tree.

He let the dying evening sink into the dry dirt and lonely tunnels to his castle keep.


In the buss the women come and go

Talking of yoga and avocado toast.

They will say his cuts are growing thin.

What a mess of heat and blood he’s in.

Unfortunately any of you who would love him would call it sin.

What a messy messy mess he’s in.

From under and from within.

The expectation that you should cope.

At the end of the road.

Is the end of the rope

And at the end of the rope you’re

Going to need more rope.

Please remember your hope is not a currency that could offer payment for what a you’ve done now leave the Parlor and I will destroy the

Piano with a pick axe and we can imagine that I’ve found a way back to the days of faithful disception.

Will you please request a uealagy

With all them hopes we have

We could build love it’s

A rickety gras machine.

It doesn’t understand how hard

Algorithms have to work to find you the music you love.

Honey I know you hate sad endings.

If you’re into the movies for the hopefull beginnings.

Just know we’re doing endings for a year or so.

Come on Maria ?

I look like Elvis!

Between myself and back again.

Show me some of

that Spanish dancing.

Come on Maria

Malaria makes me delirious




As calm

As a cloud

In slacks.

Come on Maria

I feel pretty

Come on Maria

I have a love somewhere


Come on Maria, how do you solve a problem like Maria’s on buss with shoes that need to be talked to.



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