always

i was out and around the borough this hot, fucking hot day, surprised at how oppressed the heat made me. not appreciated. i know heat, i know it, i know greater blasts o fheat than this, but for some reason this year‘s early summer makes me feel like i am assploding.

a simple rumble up northern boulevard to Flushing on the Q66 bus turned to fail when a screaming baby prevailed atop a mysterious high-pitched screaching noise for a masterful blanket of unebdurable noise. i might have stayed on the Q66 had i needed to get to Flushing but i was just dicking around so i got the fuck offa that train and got a “Farmer‘s Omelette“at the great Mark Twain Diner. i tried the IHOP across the street before the Markㅆㅈㅁ먀ㅜ ㅠ Twain and i am sorry to report than i came hungry, and left hungry. story.

then i walked down northern Boulevard and faced unexpected combat with these fucking MBT sandals which have occurred so much carnage on my precious, beautiful feet. i think of that picture of my sister and me in Ghana, my rosy pink feet lurching clueless out into the 120-degree equatorial heat, how unblemished they looked then and until recently, until they suffered rape at the heels of these fucking MBT shoes. blood blisters, punctures, muscle sores, the indentation of my mighty toes already burned into the floor of these shoes, this fascinating vision of a heretofore unexplored region of my anatomy(bottom of my feet?)offering some earthly contemplation of the plantar part of my body which intercepts always my relations with this planet.

AND THEN… i walked most of the way back, hating these shoes, hating everything, hating the goddam plenary universe of doom and 900-degree dismay… i arrived at Sorabji Central and stripped naked, sittin down on The Chair to write some of hte greatest poetry ever written, and then i masturbated, and then i went to the walgreens to buy some toilet paper, and then i cam ehome and i took a shit and i wiped my ass and i sat down.,