He began by describing a mistake he made in 1993:
We continue to think that we’re dying, and so we are.
After lunch, the afternoon fills with menacing tingles.
I tip what change I get.
It wasn’t moral degradation, because I detested
All that I did. It was lapse of will and intellect.
It was like a formative experience. He called me tasteful.
Whatever we see, it looms.
I probably even dilly-dallied – what does the aggregate
Say to the wind? I focus really hard on looking like
I’m deliberating in a landscape. And that’s fine,
That’s what I spend my money on.
We get a chance to learn what the subjects fail to learn.
To keep bringing up how nice the weather’s been, how fun
To watch the dance floor through the window.
It’s colder closer to the sunset.
A girl turns her foot below a flowery dress.
Not a crime against humanity, but rude
To catch how the line kind of dips from the chair.
What I avoid is very exciting.
Popping through the crowd around the goldfish
Towards bright folding chairs and carved-in glasses,
A pair of orange peels of unfussed paint.
None of you have any scale at all.