First Thought, Best Thought.

We're All Golden Sunflowers Inside.

What Peaches And What Penumbras! Whole Families Shopping At Night! Aisles Full Of Husbands! Wives In The Avocados, Babies In The Tomatoes!--and You, Garcia Lorca, What Were You Doing Down By The Watermelons?

That's What The Shaman Said. He Didn't Know What He Was Up Against. He Didn't Expect The Strength And Weight And Evil Intensity Of This Spirit, This "entity," As He Called It. The Same Way The Priest In An Exorcism Has To Take On The Spirit.

I Touch Your Book And Dream Of Our Odyssey In The Supermarket And Feel Absurd.

I Don't Do Anything With My Life Except Romanticize And Decay With Indecision.