The Autotelic Way
I've changed my email address six times. Milk transfusions are the orders of the day. I tell my neighbor, the one with the goose, to picture me in paradise. She has a face that looks like a locker so I tag it Soozy Ise A Bladdersnout. Someone sets a field of barley on fire. At night I fly from house to house, filling living rooms with fire extinguisher foam. Through other people's windows the view connects to other people's views, through their windows, and we all see inside ourselves, ourselves inside.
Everyone in Woodplumpton is wasted when I get back from midnight rounds. I stole a pig, a sheep, and a garbage-eating goat. Fulsome songs of wont tremble twine-like in the air. Someone tagged my email box again: FYLDE HAG FYLDE HAG FYLDE HAG. Fitting myself into bed, my new stolen animals involving the room with their respective odors, I read myself a story. Once upon a time there was A. B fell into A's fallacious loop and extincted from the world. The End.
Tomorrow in the brindle heat, I dislocate through the town about my usual rickety business. On public transit I watch my fingers grow, one by one by one by one by one by one by one by one by one by one. Passengers filter by, looking from the corners of their eyes. A pleasant death to you, they cajole me. Enscribing stunts on the wall, ignore them.
None of these icky precedents will prevent me from eating their livestock or from taunting their children into games of no chance at all. Steaming dairy equipment in my head stands ready to cleanse me of every hallucination. Let's just get me through the night first.
