packing
is such a god
damn challenge, it almost
undermines the reward of bon
voyage.

on the domestic pleasures of rented movies and stove top popcorn.

though i've
lost interest in
weekends entirely,
i feel bad when max offers me
his own.

on nerves

the ten
xanax prescribed
won't ease me through packing,
let alone the next three weeks on
small planes.

on the creativegrowth gallery opening tonight.

if i
could just figure
out who was pricing the
art here, i would be more inclined
to buy.

on becoming a moleman

i am
self conscious
about my dwindling eye
sight; i yearn to see underground
cities.

the doors
movie has to
be better than jim's grave,
but in one week's time, i'll find out
myself.

often
i find myself
homesick, desperate
and wandering aimlessly through
target.

reading
tori spelling's
autobiography
is a fine way to while away
weekends,

idle
ruminations
on 90210
notwithstanding. but that's just ms.
spelling.

your claim
that the bills have
been paid loses most of
its credibility when the
power's

out. when
you write notes that
claim "no, i paid this one,"
it's just such an impossible
lie, i'm

not sure
why you think any
one could possibly still
believe you. yet, you still remain
in charge.