The lights and freak shows blast down the way.

 

        Trampling over trash on the soles of our shoes to carry home on the carpets and dressers. Nothing belongs in place. Places brought home being lumps in throats not used to the feeling. Pairing away a transaction for the next day. Lob shots,  the balls get lost in dump yards over the tall fences. The shots are never caught in mid-air. They have to drop first.

 

        They come to me harder than pudding or doors closed let off porous fumes. Lighter than the last try to make it to the terminal. Picking at my nose without realizing it, I happen to see my own image in a glass. I smile. Put my hands on my side. The odors came from somewhere. Ignited, not able to flame. Things are blurred. My taste deteriorated. Ebony faces sometimes follow me around. I didn't want it. But it was the only thing to do. Normalities didn't count. Do what others tell, and don't talk otherwise to a force of legions -- people who say differently. No world talk. Counting form legged creatures who write poems as the only inhabitants of the weird society. Sift through an increasing number of counter-intellectual spies, getting down to normal ones. Steel guitar strings snapped you in the face. A problem facing it doesn't worry the other intruders in an empty section called their place.

 

        It was so obvious to a spectator in the games; planters made sure. Glory in a row consisting of beautiful leaches. The ones with the little brown spots on their foreheads.

 

        It began to snow. A bead of sweat came down my back. Weather reports were sighted on the radio. Those disc jockeys are crazy. Never know quite what to say. I thought my perfume would be killed in the cold wind. My coat sheltered me from nothing, no penetrating freeze factors were stopped. Just as I was afraid, Christmas was on everyone's lips. Those who stopped by for some coffee dropped previous plans, adjoined their clubs in spirits rising to the tallest building. The moon was gone. Breathers lovers danced on the rafters. Snuffing out candles on the decks. The darkness scared me. It was too early for Christmas. Flowing out for a drink, I never heard of it. There must have been a mistake. It

 

RIVER BED   37

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