today, i cracked the shell of an egg on the sidewalk
and watched it crisp under the sun, the way my arm
and the back of my neck has crisped, i aimagine myself
crisping similar to pork, when it has been dipped once,
dipped again, and, like this egg, bubbles.

the thermometer is broken; it has decided to move to florence.

restless

Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont.
Vermont, New York, Vermont.
Vermont, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont.
Vermont, California, everywhere in between,Vermont.
Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont.
Vermont, Croton Point Park, Vermont.
Vermont, over the pond, Vermont.
Vermont, Montreal, Vermont.
Vermont, somewhere new, Vermont. 
Vermont, Martha's Vineyard, Vermont.
Vermont, New Hampshire, stop.

Wonder when you're coming home. Wonder if you'll be able to find me.

hair saturated with the smell of bonfires old trees hot coals (eyes too)
thinking about letters and postage stamps on the drive home (always do)
dreaming about reading this new book I have aloud to you
I don't think you'd see the beauty in it
I read it to myself in bed and tiny strands of smokey hair fall into the corners of my mouth I taste you
I tell myself that's what it is
your ghost

out of the tool box, into the garbage

i am that little spot on the wall,
the salamander slime trailing behind all things
the jungle cat lost in the wrong woods
the moon on a sour night
the little details
something peculiar
the strands of hair
the cheese platter served with the wine
the cats eyelids
a dogs nose
a friend
a lost comrade
alone
voice
I am the single cactus through the barren wastes.
I am THAT guy
Im the squeaky door hinge that tries to remains silent.
Im the bar of soap
the gatorade
the trumpet song

I am the elephant, though not the one who needs to be concerned over.
Im the one that forgets
I am the coward
as yellow as anxiety makes me
Ive trapped myself in my own little room
and I dont know what I did with the key.

I am the whiner
the egotistical selfcentered no one,
who knows what theyre talking about
in the way that no one really knows
The prophet, the one whos figured it all out,

if I figured it all out,
why then is it all still so topsy turvy?

I almost bought a book today, about being the white knight, the "army of one" warrior through life.
It was too bibley for my tastes, but reminded me its ridiculous to ponder such drivel when everyone feels theyre in the same boat.
And thats the compulsion, the impulse.
We're just trying to be like everybody else. Especially when we try to stand out.
and be unique.