burns inconnue seems only yesterday how do seven years fly like that i'm getting to be a dusty clock he fell asleep with a cigarette now he's living in the hospital and his brother plays on the radio but people out there who hear the music don't think about a man i hardly know who used to live here long ago or how he liked eating supper at our beach place and sharing compassion talking about aliens and how i nearly bit his nose off for letting the cats out that day i met him he was smoking a cigarette 040309 ... kerry i am such an asshole. when i am sitting at the dinner table feeling head expanding while looking at a lump of chicken on cheese on ham covered in sauce i feel like such a bitch because i get so mad because my eyes dart over hopefully but find only peas. they spin, whirly, still praying, find only too-loose mashed potatoes. and my mother she is stressing about her job, she is spitting electric when we tell her there are grits spilled all over the counter, "OH SHUT UP, I DONT CARE!!!!" and i hate looking at a bland plate to find all these foods i'll never want to eat, or feel like eating tonight, and i'm so selfish for thinking twice about it, or for being upset. so my body burns from the bottom up because i feel guilty, because i want to love everything she cooks just because she is my mother, and because i am ungrateful sometimes and that is so ugly to me. i just hate myself for hating dinner tonight. 040309 ... uow it burns. i knew i should've said hello. now you are gone. into another world? i'm sorry i did not say hello that day you were here, how many weeks ago? i was quiet. i didn't know. i didn't say hello. i've though about you. i saw an owl yesterday noon. i heard he found you in your bed. the news shook me from my sleepiness. it burns to know. i didn't say hello. 040903 what's it to you? who go blather from