What I meant to say before you hung up

got a three-inch metal syringe sleeping in a tin box

discounted long-legged dreams by the bucket

often spy on you at night

like walking far and alone when it’s dead cold outside 

look forward to very little save the sound of the milkman outside my door 

enjoy the sight of blood off deer trails on opening day

wish for instant fame and its avalanche of pussies

often hold forth in my room like a once-successful salesman trying to make it back  

don’t trust the hungry sparrow outside my window

also, though perhaps less important, know for sure

that intelligence is nothing but fear of vacuity

Egg Harbor, 13-10-93