Answer to the question

Answer to the question of thoroughfare. Click. America loves her sense of growth. And what. Stale tables beneath my typed massages, and I’m looking out the window, no, door, and there presented to me in that ever so nonchalant fashion of the completely random, is a random, section of street. Defined only by the frame of the window, no, door, that frames it ever so nonchalantly in that fashioned random way, is a section of completely meaningless street. BUT CENTERED, centered in the fashion of randomness, randomly, centered in the middle, of the frame, the section of pointless pavement, centered in the middle is a TELEPHONE POLE. Right in the middle. Smack-dab. And suddenly, AS IF by complete chance, I need to urinate, to pee. And so I go.

A: It’s late afternoon

B: Must be… I’m just not awake. I mean now awake.

A: Do you feel lazy?

B: No, I’ve gotten things done. Cleaned a little.

A: Do you feel lazy?

B: No, I’ve gotten things done. Cleaned a little.

A: Do you feel lazy?

B: No, I’ve gotten things done. Cleaned a little.

A: Do you feel lazy?

B: No, I’ve gotten things done. Cleaned a little.

A: Is there, there is a party tonight.

B: Why are you talking to yourself, I mean me. What are you doing?

A: I don’t know. Ostensibly, relaxing, being creative productive, learning.

B: Creative productive?

A: Learning.

B: Creative productive?

A: Learning.

B: Creative productive?

A: Learning. About me, I mean you. If we are separate.

B: You now have to, I mean you know we have to die.

A: Let’s just deal with that when it comes. Inevitability and all that.

B: Inevitability. A little poem of a word.

A: A word of a poem. I’ll get up, I’m thirsty..

B: The coffee is right there..

A: And I’ve got to change something. Hold on.

The richness of sensations. Like butter. Cream. Pushing. Newborn and that stretch. Pulsing. That friendly little painful stab of a drag. Cigarettes. The friction that is such that we feel to be pleasure and/or pain. And/or and if we just pause a moment. And get into the touch. Skin. Scratch. Skin Scratch. Sound flutter dead cells which to, you know where they go.

B: This goes nowhere.

A: Hopeless.

B: Maybe we should smoke more weed.

A: I guess so.

B: The telephone pole…

A: Is still there.

B: I just saw a limo go by.

A: What the hell do you want to do? We have all fucking day. We’re broke. Why don’t you call and get a job?

B: Because I feel a little special.

A: And that always leads to disappointment. You don’t know. You’re not happy with who you’re dating, yet you still fuck it.

B: Someone just looked at us through the sidewalk. I mean the window, no, door.

A: You’re not listening to me! Are we not wrong? Are we not whole? What are we doing here? What the fuck are we going to do? And we’re sentenced. At any moment. You know that.

B: What did they say?

A: You know.

B: Tell me again!

A: They said wake up, pay attention to what you are doing. And then.

B: Say it!

A: Is ‘and then’ a complete sentence?

B: Jesus Christ I don’t know. We’re going to die. They’re going to kill us.

A: We don’t know how it’s going to happen. It could be decades…

B: It could be now. Any moment. That’s the price. They wake us up, say ‘Do this shit, and then at some point we’ll kill you’. Doesn’t that make you angry? Aren’t you tired?

A: We can sleep.

B: Naps! Fucking naps! And then memories like dreams. No different from dreams!

A: It’s not that bad. We had sex. We weren’t promised anything. It’s free…

B: No it’s not!

A: What about the butter.

B: Oh yes the butter.

A: What about the butter.

B: Oh yes the butter.

A: What about the butter.

B: Oh yes the butter.

 

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