what time was it you figured; he walked through the door.  “and all I can see,” he said.  spaces and stops and hot lava sounds brought to desks and wax tables by couriers and secret messages are all devoured–all around us.  it’s what will unfold until it’s time to make a prominent decision.  the three colors visible are turning to rust from all of the smiles.  it’s a wet catastrophe.  swimming with the sharks.  lost under bathroom stalls and broken soap bars; liquid bolts are piercing hushed soliloquies.  “you are an asshole.”  spitting where they won’t see today.  come on, you know this–don’t be an animal.  the band keeps on whistling; what are we going to do tomorrow?  for God’s sake look for a landmark and try to keep up.  the chance to scream is not something one earns but bargains with–and if not here, then where?  well, don’t ask because we don’t have the time to just sit around anymore.  where there’s a parking lot, there’s an outlet.  I won’t miss this place.

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