The Only Infallible Truth Of Our Lives

I'm An Amateur Science Enthusiast. I'm Not Even A Professional Enthusiast. I Don't Know Anything; I Never Even Passed Biology In High School. But I Read The Science Section Of The Newspaper.

But What I Really Want Is To Just Swim Around In A Warm Baby Pool Of These Friends, Jump In Their Dry Leaf Pile-to Rub Them All Over Myself, Without Words And Clothes.

Every Time I Get Through The Work On A Book Of Nonfiction, I Say I'll Never Do It Again; It Takes So Much Out Of You.

She Needs A New Journal. The One She Has Is Problematic. To Get To The Present, She Needs To Page Through The Past, And When She Does, She Remembers Things, And Her New Journal Entries Become, For The Most Part, Reactions To The Days She Regrets, Wants To Correct, Rewrite.

Every Time My Brain Parks The Car Neatly In The Driveway, My Mouth Drives Through The Back Of The Garage.