Status: Departed: I don't know whether God or television made him so smart. But I learned so much in a 5-minute conversation.

To: VW

From: SV

Subject: A reason for abandonment

C is moving to Bollywood and he's leaving on Monday. Who needs a telephone when we all have a reason for abandonment? I'd say a beluga or a poorly drawn sperm snatching bathers has spawned a fan club, merchandise bearing his likeness and illustrations celebrating cannibalism.

I factored I mean fractured (frustrated) the decision, not that my existence prompted him to leave the country (am I your only object of interest?) He let his hair down (should have been

Jesus) and gave me his hat because it looks cuter on me. I'm sad we've a whale with a diet of partially burnt corpses. An article summed up my feelings on nutrition, modern day methods of dynamiting and electrocution. Should I feel better now?

I'll need to pull some recipes off my shelf and try, try again.

 

 

 

* * * 

 

 

Status: Detached: Astronomers declared that space smells like bacon and hot rubber.

To: RS

From: VW

Subject: Re: Your animal face

No generation of timely affairs and the lone egg in an eggcup an isolated

viewer. Walking the square ringing doorbells then roof jumping a birthday party, vaulted. You gave up on the web already? Silk spun cross hairs for feeling. Rare is the surgeon can match your skill, engineering cartilage, skin and all, how the swells crater.

This is my third visible poem, a long row of steps leading you to apologize for clasped hands conscripted to help temporarily, not to become the woman's light engulfing her body’s

moths are the sole inhabitants of the space I saw you reading a little while ago. The person of whom I shall not speak has my copy of your book by rain cooperating unless cooperating

means an incubus split then pressed against film. Women have more nightmares than men, despite a reluctance to scream.