digs and partial surprises

time is precious in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening – people are jumping on me like that. no wonder I find it hard to breathe. and why, why are people so disorganized? was I adopted? damn, today is Friday, and I don’t have plans for the weekend. is it possible I may have something set that one part of myself has not told the other part yet? the left hand cannot see the right. in news, this young man is wanted for larceny. he hides with the wild boars where the others do not think to look. it is a good day for the sun to rocket into the sky and dissolve drug addictions and self doubts. weekend plans on the waxing and waning of the moon, left up there with car keys and coins that fell out of fountains, and programs cancelled by Fox and the WB. you keep repeating this song in your head. she says – the two of you should hit it off. what the hell does that supposed to mean? I say, I’m taking psychology, to which she replies – oh, that’ll do you some good. more digs? or just surprise birthday parties? I will go to shine my own tennis shoes and lift a twenty pound weight after I’m done calling people jackasses and larcenists. the guilty cereal sogged up the only space left available, so now people pay more but eat less. this life thing is rollercoaster-ish and even in the place of business myths and fables have their underlying current with which transactions assume a proper b-boy stance.