A CHAIR – 4
In a hospital, I’m always
the nurses’ favorite: I always ask them
to sneak me more Jell-O and say thank you, both before and after.
“She doesn’t eat,” he said.
“I don’t eat out,” she said.
Why am I me and not you?
Riding on the front of the
shopping cart, pulling something down, only to be put back by mom.
Eating leaves me feel
sluggish, so I don’t do it much, unless it’s around other people. And then,
only slowly.
There are ways around it,
always, yet always it is there. The touching of objects makes you feel like
something else is there, but it’s still you, still there. I take a drink of
water, look out the window, and then have to go to the bathroom, always
thinking of something else even if it’s just the fact that I drank some water,
looked out the window and had to pee and then peed. I like that about life,
some consistency.
But I also dislike it when
things change: when children grow older,
when parents grow older, when I grow older. How the cars don’t always drive
between the lines on the street.
I dislike it when when
happens.
A gig is a gig as a gag. A
gag in a gig. A gig is a grunt with a gag in its throat. Practical gigs as a
gag for a grunt or gas. A gig grunting on gin just for a gas. A gag running on
a gig for gas, yet grunting. A gig is a gig is a gag grunting on gin for a gas,
gagging.
Amid overture to Iran, U.S.
strives to reassure Israel. F.B.I. tries to trace last weeks of Navy Yard
gunman. House bill links health care law and budget plan. Challenges await plan
to reduce carbon emissions.
This is 10:04 pm (PST) on
September 20th, 2013. This is 3 days before my birthday.
This is a beautiful night,
watching Arrested Development and eating microwave popcorn.
