Monday, December 26, 2005


I am stammer when faced with the one thing
The one thing
I wish I could say it
Saying it
The one thing
Writing poems
Sometimes I wish upon a spare.

Let me give this to you arpeggio. The way the siren sounds when they’re about to pull you over. You pat your shirt looking for the license that you know isn’t there. What do you do? Do you gun it, run for it? They can’t catch everyone that runs, it isn’t like “Cops,” that stupid television show: “Bad boy, bad boy, what you gonna do?” The whole idea is so pathetic, a Walter Mitty fantasy. You’re not running from the police, you haven’t done anything wrong, you’re an American citizen. So what if they’ve checked your library records, how many porno videos you took out of the video store, who you send emails to? It is for our own good. Keep saying that, it is for our own good.