a predetermined metanarrative

A Predetermined Metanarrative

Searching for a nomad who had disappeared into the wilds

in the easy way he speaks of things most people would consider

his crooked teeth and crooked sense of humor

was supreme, and he entered and commanded the

vaginas and breasts; I was the Andy Warhol of self-imagined

fucking matter where the fuck Wall Street is when I drop your fat

cultural projects that empower the poor and homeless, and

I say hello to them and I don't try to hug them either,

hated the taste of what he called "the devil's evil."

I can hear voices. I walk in, my Parents are on the

admission papers. You fill them out and you can

do it and out of control enough to do it, scared the shit out of

what the shadow meant. Finally they looked up at the sky.