I was walking down the street when the pounding started, out of a glistening new car door, with animal shapes and shadows, sizes. It wouldn’t have to poke through, for that was the end of it right there, a brand new car, yellow and orange with fresh fabricated sheen. I’m supposed to think. Caught in this odd verbiage of reality. Caught in this old. Caught out in the cold. I caught hold. I coughed and bowled over. I don’t believe in it. I don’t believe in these feet on the ground. I don’t believe in the ground. I do live in the ground. I grind up my living. That’s when the pounding started, like a box hammer. There’s no such thing as a box hammer. What am I talking about. Why are you listening to this. What time is it. Has anyone seen my car. Has anyone seen my car. Has anyone seen inside of my ears. Onside of there, it’s bizarre, it is. Inside of there I meant to say. There’s no stuttering when I’m writing. There’s no stuttering in movies. Writing is like movies. Outside of there, it’s boring. My ear, I mean. I meant I was talking about my ear. Would everybody just shut up. What the fuck am I doing. It doesn’t make a difference if you listen. It doesn’t make a difference that you’re here. Why not have another drink. Is it something new you’re going to hear. No, I am what the fuck are you doing. Why not have another doing. What I’m trying to say is, what decision isn’t spiritual you fuckers, yeah you, you dumb fuckers. Oh but what if we’re all dumb fuckers, does that make it better, and so everything would be relative to how good, or bad of a dumb fucker you were, and so we could call it something else, like a pleasantly functioning and self aware human being. Oh but what if we’re all pleasantly functioning and self aware human beings, does that make it worse, and so everything would be relative to how good, or bad of a pleasantly functioning and self aware human being you were, and so we could call it something else, like a dumb fucker, yeah you, you dumb fuckers, What I’m trying to say is, what decision isn’t spiritual you fuckers, said the boy to Job, but it was all telepathic and transmitted through the boy’s wide, frightened and staring eyes.

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