Must have erased it by mistake and the floors disappeared into the desert that could be why everything is so close to the street the only front yards we have are the 3 feet of bullshit we tell ourselves to keep each other at bay shackled strangers put away put it away no one is interested sounded like you sounded like me sounded like they got it from you sounded like you got it from them could be could be nothing must be.
"She's complaining in there again."
"Who?"
"She goes in there every morning to complain. Sometimes she goes right into complaining and other times it's the other times where she goes in there and ends up complaining."
"The other times?"
"Yeah she goes in there as if complaining is the last thing she'd ever think of going in there to do. She goes in there as if she actually intended to you know relate or something or mention something even esoteric or meaningless or useless or meaningless."
"Or esoteric?"
"No it's between the last two. I've narrowed it down to them."
"You've ruled out the esoteric and the relating and the something."
"Balsamic vinegar."
"You didn't say anything about balsamic vinegar."
"One never can know about leaving out what they might have unknowingly ruled out."
"No wonder you have insomnia."
"Someone will always bring up some little shit I didn't bring up."
"And that's how you shove off the esoteric and the relating to the gutter."
"They form their cliques along the sidelines and exchange their gutter talk."
"And what about something?"
"Something? Something."
"You're reconsidering."
"Something is crap that has been labeled annoying."
"Are you going to fill out the survey?"
"How long have we been in this room?"
"Years."
"How many years?"
"I've lost track."
"Lost track have you? So have I. That's what happens when we get our subjectivity packed nice and tight into a closed space. Fill out a survey my ass."
"We lost our progress again."
Fuck something sometimes sometimes the index index finger wants to dig in the corner there is a hole in the corner of the eye to dig it out and work on the other one sometime later work on the other one that will sometimes become the only one left all these eyes entering into detention to see more of the same as they hand each other kaleidoscopes twisting their vision into being intrigued with sights that divide and spin into mirrors of each other of each other of each other face them and bow to them and face them fuck them fuck something sometimes sometimes the index index finger wants to dig in the corner there is a hole in the corner of the eye to dig it out and work on the other one sometimes later work on the other one that will sometimes become the only one left all these eyes entering into detention.
"What do you get now?"
"5."
"How do you get 5?"
"I knew you were going to ask that."
"Of course you knew. I always do ask."
"I did want to be wrong."
"You don't like to be wrong."
"I try not to care but I get that wrong as well. That's the thing about being wrong a lot it kind of likes to expand branch out and spread its things all over the place all over your stuff my stuff."
"What do you get now? Still 5?"
"She got her coat caught in her office chair."
"Who?"
"And one of the strings in the lining of her coat the string that you pull on to tighten the coat."
"I know what the string does."
"When it gets cold not that it gets that cold in the desert I think she wears it because it makes her think of being somewhere she'd rather be."
"Who's she?"
"I'm on a tangent I know but nowadays the things that connect to each other or don't really connect are the tangents just want to get the puzzle done one color matching forget it's there taking up space on the table until we spill something on it."
"Is this the one who was complaining in there earlier?"
"She's still in there complaining in there. No this is someone else. I help her get the knot out of the string that's wrapped around the wheel of her office chair several times turn turn turn around around around."
"I get it."
"I help her get that fucking knot out and unwrap the string and free her coat and as I set it back in place on the back of her office chair all the shit in her pockets cascades all over the floor. And she's saying it's OK it's OK. No it's not OK."
"What did you want her to say?"
"I don't know just not that it's OK."
"Who does she remind you of?"
"The one who's in there complaining or the one who got her coat caught in her office chair?"
"She reminds you of your mother."
"No."
"She reminds you of your father."
"No."
"Who then?"
"She reminds me of the mountains I see far off in the distance on the edge of the desert that I contemplate throwing myself off of and they look at me from the distance as if to say it's OK it's OK you amusing little man."
"And the one complaining in there?"
"Who gives a fuck. I would have preferred her to say something more like that's how it had to end that's what had to follow huh?"
"That wouldn't be nicer to say."
"You're not listening are you? It's the huh? A tiny huh? I've always hated the way others have said it, but if she had said it and with a question mark that no one else has ever used would have made all the difference and she didn't so never mind how could she have known I'm finding these things out now that do me no good now that's the rest of time it is now or now-ish."
I build a prison below the ground every day so that when the earth the dirt that is caves in into the cave this cave another layer will pile on top of the layers that are already there still there after the ones have crumbled away from the talking with the other prisoners the other things that walk around having come out of their corners their boxes having doffed their lids so officious it makes one puke the dirt that is it hardens into another layer will pile on top of the layers that are already there still there after the ones have crumbled away from the talking with the other prisoners the other things that walk around having come out of their corners their boxes having doffed their lids so officious it makes one puke the dirt that is it hardens into another layer of a prison I build a prison below the ground every day so that when the earth the dirt that is caves in into the cave this cave.
- Max Stoltenberg
No comments:
Post a Comment