The sun, coming in a little now. Your
mistake. I didn’t want an already-
made-for life. The audium of morning
terror and rose. Do your guts dream
ardently like marionettes outside
noises of late-morning. You gotta theme
song for getting out of bed, because
I call that one. You will risk everything.
It is California without a car.
Love for your dreams venture for living
being for what I want. I would like a
cappuccino please. I’ll have the same. And
some water please. Thank you. I want to know
if you touched the center of your sorry
life of sorrow, if you opened your treason
of it or became shriveled and closed in
fear more of pain. Blown, fucked, blindsided and
gut-hit I want to know if you can sit
with it without moving to hide or fix
something, or something else.
* * *
go to Part II