I write in a bout of cathartic explication
a nonsensical jubilation
of all my anti joy.
Four days ago I met a mad girl
who fell in love with me
I wanted to be her.
I was her
In her black
brown
hair
(an all this while I think of genuis,
discovery and mutilation)
but I wasn't.
Four days ago I began to be afraid
(let's write this date down now)
of everything that was me
and now I'm afraid of everything
I see that isn't me.
But still, I don't know who I
am.
3, three caterpillar were crossing
a crossed crosswalk when they spied
an
from
the side of the road
both
but a milk carton
dying hamster,
They found their vision so restrictive
so comprehensible but incomprehensible
in the mirror that was their
walking
they just plain;;;;;;
became very frustrated.