Pin the Nail on the Donkey,
After last night's 4 hour game of Girl Talk I think we know each other a little more. Not that you never suspected the playground. Close your eyes and look at the 9 foot wooden statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary in the prayer room in the backyard and you'll understand. My eyes are tiny planets floating in the skull of our galaxy and the beauty and truth of metaphor is not dead. I flip open the cellphone to see if anyone has thought to text me but all I get is a backdrop of a barn on a corn field with a date and time as if pasted forever on a digital blue sky. If I press the menu button I end up in the AT&T Mall waiting for you to quit rummaging through the audio and graphic files of "my stuff" like a jealous boyfriend eager to know who i am. Jealousy might be an inverted virtue like a love sweater worn inside out but for now, dollar tacos are good enough on a street corner in Lincoln Heights without the anal gesturing of GPS. I am ready to move back to LA if only it gets me closer to the logic of magic tricks so that I won't have to keep biting my nails in a huff about how it is that the soul works and what it has to do with an internet powered by electricity. Tonight i am a baby dinosaur pouting in a high chair waiting for one of us to make up our minds.
Your,
Binder Clip to Keep the Veil on my Head
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