It is still cold. The book is slow. Lately,
I find myself mentally crafting elaborate
confrontations with the various men that
represent personal demons: construction
workers, politicians, condo owners, young

people living as their parents live, breeders,
consumers, watch-wearers, real estate speculators,
stock traders, perpetrators of ‘high’ and ‘fine’ art,
anyone seen in a vehicle with empty seats,
the mediocre, the decadent, the lost.

It is a waste of time and energy to torture
myself in this way, but I will continue to do so,
I know, until I am on the deck of a small ship
rounding Gibraltar, far out of reach of all judgement,
especially my own.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s