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THE
POET FINDS HIS ACTRESS
"God,"
he gulped, tearing down his pants, "I wanna
be the third of your five husbands--the
one..."
"Oh! Honey! Yes! You!" She opened in
love, in trust, beneath him. "The one who
makes the funeral arrangements."
LOOP
"GIVE ME A
BEER!" Tom who wants to be a painter said,
coming in and pounding his fist on the good wood
of the bar.
"It's done, man. We're doing it. We're
getting the divorce. Two fucking years. I feel
sentient and lean for the first time in a year
and ten months.
"Now I need to find me a girl and get down
to work."
KARL
REMATERIALIZING
Lately, on the
street, at the bank, I've been seeing guys who
look like Karl--two last week and then, today,
another one.
He must be coming home soon.
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