I am not so comfortable with words, now that we have stopped bothering to scream them. I will look and you will look, and we will look at each other from across a couch, disgusted. I can make you a picture; that's all I can do because we all know I am a fraud. I am not - an activist I am not much of anything these days, and it's fine. I watch the TV and it seeps. My eyes are like buckets and the world is all sloshy liquid, pouring itself inside. It will slither around any walls we put up. This is either beautiful or tragic, but I am not afraid of you or your alleged ambivalence. All these words are stupid I am tired of writing them, and they never convince you of anything, least of all the knowledge of me that you should have by now. We don't agree on anything and all I do is annoy you and nothing serves to interrupt this fact; not the poems or the moon or the beaches in the afternoon, where people are huddled in blankets and grayish sand is scattering by the winds of crashing waves and the people are squinting to keep the sand out of their eyes trying to light cigarettes as leaves are coming on the shore- Just a rainy day, really; but one of the girls has their hair crawl up in the wind, like an arm and it catches the tiniest of leaves. Really nothing special, after all. -e. _______________________________________________ Five7Five mailing list [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://www.pairlist.net/mailman/listinfo/five7five
