Tools to Work With
So few tools to work with, a gallon of $4 gas and a length of twine, three snapdragons and some flypaper, Robert’s Rules of Order, Order & Chaos Chez Hans Reichel, a will that won’t quit like an old car running on rims, a will poorly written so that the wrong people reap the goods, spontaneity floating in the gas like an embryo, spare change, a phone number on the back of your hand, a hankering, a hunch, a horrid green premonition, instructions written backwards on a mirror in coke, Colombia’s love child, white lady with the dark lines.
Pater noster somewhere up in the clouds, all the women you’ve loved for an Augenblick, a screaming pool full of children on a hot day.
Explanations be damned, what’s to understand, everyone lies to you.
Let the interrogations begin.