for A.B. . it’s so hard to believe that once we were even younger than now that our skin was so thin that veins blued through it like lines in school notebooks that the world was a homeless dog that played with us after classes and we were thinking of taking it home but somebody else took it first gave it a name and trained it “stranger” against us
and this is why we wake up late at night and light up the candles of our tv sets and in their warm flame we recognize faces and cities and courageous in the morning we dethrone omelets from frying pans . . .
but our dog grew up on another’s leash our mothers suddenly stopped sleeping with men and looking at them today it’s so easy to believe in the immaculate conception