Listen!
EAST East, innocence, enormous, a blush over half the sky. Now that we know the dryness of Death, does our knowledge have anything left over for us? Like a nectarine hidden in the tangled sha- dows at the bottom of a ridge where everyone told us we would come, dust-mouthed and anxious. Death sits down to the table with Fun, eating for those of us who wish to starve. Shadows in my head cool my thoughts down to their remnants, a useful char- coal. I am happy to serve Death dessert and to paint his toe- nails afterwards. A heavy truck flies by me on the highway, its rear end says East but it is headed the other way, a mystery, I don't know the answer. I wish my delirium had trousers it could wear to go out in public without provoking comment, I wish the police would add sheet to sheet till the paper evidence covered it with discretion. My bones are flutes all playing at once, my record shows that I keep acting the way I've been acting without raising dust. Listen, the Devil is sad that his bids have fallen so low and still no takers--they all say they can get it cheaper on the Internet, and there he is standing out by the highway, saying OK then, how about some lemonade? But no one believes in it anymore. The stars cough as they whirl, and I hold my breath awhile then give it to the East so the sun can be blown a little higher. If it was up to me and my weak needs, I would stumble, but Death is my companion, and he and his distant cousin Fun hold me up to save me from falling to the Devil, who never gives up-- that's why they call him stupid and won't pick up the phone when he calls.
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