MOVEMENTS OF THE LOWER JAW
I read a great deal of books, I have them
Piled in the backseat of my car and I read
Them all and all of them are often read.
That is to say, I suffer, I suffer rather often,
Because all of the books always end and then
Well, unless I begin to read another, then instead
I end up wondering why none of the books were
Written about you, and why none of this, for one
Reason or another, has ever let me know where you’ve
Been or how you are.
(because the books are filled with knowledge, you are all I need to know)
Often, I feel you might have died
Without leaving any words for me to hear, perhaps you are
Still lost somewhere out there but I am beginning to have my
Doubts. I do not check the newspapers anymore, scanning every line
To see a picture of someone I’ve never seen yet I still ask
The mailman to check the bottom of his bag to see if any were any
Letters Left over but none of this makes any sense because I am always
In bed and the mailman is outside and I do not know his name.
I did not expect you to be a part of this piece that I am
Writing because I am angry with you, my arms crossed and
Every bone is never hard, hard enough to crack myself against
The glass. Earlier today I wondered how sad it would be for
Someone to have to return all of the library books I left in
My car after I drove my car off of the bridge in the middle
Of a Saturday afternoon near the beach and all of the books
Would be wet and ruined, wet and ruined, wet and ruined so
I decided I would drive a little slower until I lied.
You know how long its been since someone’s done that for me, lit two cigarettes at once?