
IN MEMORIUM
Alas, poor car, you did me no wrong.
If we forged a spiritual bond,
I broke it that February day.
Was I wool gathering or were his lights
out? No mind. Spilt milk. Misdeed done.
I never knew the freedom you brought
me until the day we parted on
Route 7. Oh my Toyota Matrix
2003, how I miss you! I’m sorry.
SILENCE
Out of juice, I have to say
this thirsty page before me lay.
The manhole cover is doing its job;
life underground remains in a fog.
SCRIBBLINGS
I’ve got an itty bitty
Witty ditty
Just under my arm—
No harm,
but it’s pritty gritty!


Most municipalities have a line citizens can call if they have info on a suspect without giving the caller’s name. When callers contact the FBI perhaps they should notify their local hotline that they have just contacted the FBI about a local concern, giving the locals a “heads up.” Is there a flaw in my thinking?
You may disregard the following, which is based on conjecture:
and have nothing to say? Well, maybe tonight (7:41)
I can share some of the drawings from my journal, which are in my book which, predictably, no one wants to read. (An overstatement. I believe five people have). Shhh–it’s about incest!