she's long ago
        forgotten me.

        she's trying on a new
        hat
        and looks more the
        coquette
        than ever.
 

        she is a
        child
        and a mannequin
        and death.

        I can't hate
        that.

        she didn't do
        anything
        unusual.

        I only wanted her
        to.

        in the winter on my
        ceiling my eyes the size of street-
        lamps. I have 4 feet like a mouse but
        wash my own underwear-bearded and
        hungover and a hard-on and no lawyer. I
        have a face like a washrag. I sing
        love songs and carry steel.

        I would rather die than cry. I can't
        stand hounds can't live without them.
        I hang my head against the white
        refrigerator and want to scream like
        the last weeping of life forever but
        I am bigger than the mountains.