“I need to be alone today,” she said as she unknotted her bare feet from mine. I thought it benign, but leafing thru her copy of Grapefruit, I felt every wrinkle running thru the spine. She pulled up the blinds, and in place of sun we both saw so much snow hanging out against the side of the skyline. The summer hurt, the winter wall – the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain of it all. “I need to breathe alone today,” she said, her face so heavy with bathos. I kept her out sight. She pulled away, and I thought, “I’ll be damned if I blink first.” We are all too human but not so kind tonight. All right. The consciousness, the consequence of parents both so affluent, and I know I’ve got this joy, this joy, this joy, so deep, so deep in my chest. She said, “Historicism will culminate in some finger-crossed, quote-unquote peace.” She said, “Those who fuck kids will later want to teach.” She said, “It’s not just that you can’t, you also look so dumb when you sing.” She said, “I’ve heard of a world that’s not resting on top of yr box spring. Don’t need money, don’t need fame. Don’t need to be an empty sink to feel this drained. Don’t need a single thing at all, so don’t call me Al.”
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