the ice cream store out on 71 closed down
katie used to work there
am i the only one excavating these ruins
the mouth is exposed, is raw
the wind blown in
the earth wobbles on its axis
i think people know more than they let on
in the ionosphere
nostalgia as a kind of knowledge
an articulation that can only be made after a time
if you could see all the shit whizzing by our faces
love is a thing that can be seen better holding together memory
those melting clocks and a sock and the tree is dead
its the size of a big envelope
two children threatened
cannibus
dried in the sun, brown, cheap- 80 dollars a zip with white russians
too much
make you puke
the sentimentality worse than etoh
the only memory is signic convention
is a learned behavior
because real memories are ugly
are wild genetic rampages, instructionless, in a hostile
kitchen
doubled as a chess classroom
art gallery
un general assembly room
a good place to take self interest seriously
a good place for nostalgia
and love always past
when they run out of conventions for naming resolutions
they turn on each other
and the surrealist convention of fluid time, of molding and melding forms together
they absorb whats good about whats resolute
rising to an urgent pitch
which memory couldnt help
which nothing could help
an ice cream shop
a girl