Excuse Me, I Said. I Thought You

The Time Is Right To Mix Sentences With Dirt And The Sun With Punctuation And Rain With Verbs.

I'll Think About Things For Thirty Or Forty Years Before I'll Write It.

I Had Become So Quiet And So Small In The Grass By The Pond That I Was Barely Noticeable, Hardly There... I Sat There Watching Their Living Room Shining Out Of The Dark Beside The Pond. It Looked Like A Fairy Tale Functioning Happily In The Post-world War Ii Gothic Of America Before Television Crippled The Imagination Of America And Turned People Indoors And Away From Living Out Their Own Fantasies With Dignity... Anyway, I Just Kept Getting Smaller And Smaller Beside The Pond, More And More Unnoticed In The Darkening Summer Grass Until I Disappeared Into The 32 Years That Have Passed Since Then.

I Thought About It For Awhile, Hiding It From The Rest Of My Mind. But I Didn't Ruin My Birthday By Secretly Thinking About It Too Hard

I Do Not Care To Be Esthetically Tickled In A Fancy Theater Surrounded By An Audience Drenched In The Confident Perfume Of Culture. I Can't Afford It.