tonight i told someone a story of my life i had never told anyone before. by the end of it, they were asleep. i don't mean for these things to keep me up, they just do.
i got up and put on my underwear, hat, clothes. of course i got caught. these things never run as slick as you want them to.
on the way home, i felt the cool night air. i passed the lovely sound of the scrapyard crushing metal in the midnight hours. the concrete factory still and stark with it's chutes and ladders cut against the pink sky. water flying uselessly on a shaved city midian. a homebum plastered against a wall, the same place for days across from the american steel warehouse like a greasy wad of chewing gum, stuck. unidentifiable, inanimate. like the lost piece of conciousness in the back of my head. he is what i would have been, had i stayed in the bed.