#pwatem

i, a lover of men and women, meandering before a high altar, safe in the crumbling tower— orphaned in self-denial, left with the obvious absurdity of god himself, over respectability and renegade ambitions, my delusions gave no comforting superstitions—

Listen first for anyone. Fill your pockets. Measure the ditch with a wad of gum. Listen. Stay still. Break open the gate with your fist. a backseat to torch. Ditch it. You will need someone, still. but later. from a pay phone. for the rope. Empty your pockets. Check for wild fur and the pant. who wad seats. or possums who hiss under wild shrub. Sharp shooters check the wind.

Help, I meant to shout to the girl, mute, wading near the pool’s edge, her wishes moneyless. I shoved her my dripping fistfuls—I have nowhere to put this.

The history of my stupidity will not be written. For one thing, it’s late. And the truth is laborious.

Probably the most dangerous thing about college education, at least in my own case, is that it enables my tendency to over-intellectualize stuff, to get lost in abstract arguments inside my head instead of simply paying attention to what’s going on right in front of me.