I have no authority in that direction.
A handful of change, no reason
for holding it, nothing to buy with it,
not even enough change to buy with.
Other change ills, like when you stopped
being an alcoholic and our conversations
went to complete shit. You, not having
chaos and the balls then to use it. Fuck.
The good things go so readily, but
don't they? The God-given right
to compose novels of the lost Christ
which is all of us, sometimes. Odd,
how the hair still stands up, my unwilling
it, and that Patenson (whether right or not)
in an affectation lost, stays still, watches
"Alien," maybe, or "Alien: Resurrection"
because he is working his way through
french cinema, and can't stand it.
Considers cigarettes, regardlessly
unfulfilling and counts quarters
he would need to buy a new pack.
Because (though not inconsiderable)
a quarter seems not much to ask
of a friend, when in that state.
