the head

“we will be discussing your employment and the general cleaning of the house. Oh yes. This is an improvement,” the man says. They live in a development on top of the world, only a little to the left.

I carry a head. Insert the key into a metal slot in the head, its skin soft and punchy with an echoing of pastures.

“oh, i’m sorry. I hurt you!”

“no worries,” Harold’s head says.

My car is the head which will teleport me off the island.

I need to get off the island.


“stop. oh stop.”

He is mine. I don’t care what the others say or think, although who really knows what truly goes on in their minds. They watch firetrucks zooming by and dream of their loneliness.  Chris is there talking to Kathy. Talking people always scare me, and I go up to them and say “do they look straight?”


My glasses.


I was doing crunches and put ’em on the floor and Lois stepped on them.

Kathy smiles with big teeth and Chris could really give a shit, but I am not walking in that place to see them, only to throw them off the scent. Whether it worked or not, I really couldn’t say. I did the best I could. faced my fears by pretending to be a real person.  Having finally revisited the place that almost killed me, I realize now that it is a smelly clique. That they had no intention of hiring me only the board put her up to it, and she went through the motions by leaving me hanging out to dry in front of all of them and the general public. What monstrosities liars are capable of. I watched them work together yesterday while I volunteered on a stupid mission to what? To find out. And I thought oh, look at that . That would’ve been great if I had been treated like that. Y’know, decently, but the girl is still there, her boyfriend mauling her breasts in public while  small- town white rasta girl says “stop. Oh stop.” in a tiny voice and trucks roar past outside. Oh, so this is how it is. How it always was. I am done with this, I think, and walk into the place the next day, the other place and say to pops: let me have my regular and bill is there, which is the whole reason for everything in the end. they have no idea.

32-point turn

Joan wanted to know why her boss signed her up for another two-year contract.

“well,” I say,” i’m more of a direct person, but maybe your boss thinks you’re good and doesn’t want to lose you so she just went ahead, bla bla bla…” Joan has had a tough day at school. They all have.

(I don’t work there anymore).

The buses have left. The women get in their cars. Bonnie doesn’t know i’m plastered to the back of her black SUV and practically kills me against the hoods of other cars doing a 32-point turn.

Richie and Kevin are still in the building. They are the resident reprobates.

Joan goes in:
“you need to leave. School is over.” (she’s on the board). They say yes but a new car comes in. On the outside it is gray and charred, like it’s been in a fire. Inside you can see only the legs of the driver, who uses a stick to steer.

This is a bad car.

It drives right into the building.

“he won’t leave,” the reprobates say, wringing their hands. “he’s real bad this time.”

Joan goes in, then emerges from the front door with an ax sunk into her and collapses in a pool of blood.

a crisis of faith & used cigars

alone I look for jeff in the street.

A new crew at the cafe. New finishes: new/old washed-out brick. The manager grabs food from the server’s mouth.

“i wish she wouldn’t do that. Bring back unfinished plates and eat from them.” (alleys of waving weeds).

His wife disapproves.

“you should let her eat it. It’s a discard.” he has a crisis of faith while I wander the streets of Provincetown which is an Arab desert. On commercial street in the east end I stand beside a writhing sea, hysterical before the presence of God, who is everywhere. I clutch a bundle of used cigars and bidis and light one. I am starving now. Children cut up a couch with a hacksaw.


my parents’ house is an air b’n’b plus the family thanksgiving celebration. Same thing.

In my old bedroom there are serpents in the closet.

“Jesus is my savior!,” I hiss and they fall quiet. Then it starts again.

My hair is long and rampant.

This is a dream.

in the stalls of desperation

My brother comes back to the resort where it rains over metal awnings.

“they sold me this,” he tells me. (he is a ten year old boy).

“how far away is it?” I demand. I am irate.

“uh…uh..a mile!”

mr. and mrs. Pol say: “use the car.”

it is around the corner, down the rounded stone staircase 30 feet high.

The women there speak Hindi Bureaucratese and Smug. Those are their languages.

The mother loses the boy in the stalls of desperation.

Wrapped in wet linen, their eyes are gouged out.

a bad phone call

there was jeff, and brian was there but he wasn’t even involved in the cafe anymore, it

was Jeff running the whole thing.

It was a malevolent thing.

And it was time to take my extreme and daily humiliation and Jodie stepped in and said

“i’ll do it.”

and I thought how nice it is to have friends who will take the punishment for me.

And then I realized this is how multiple personalities are formed.