It's Over

I walked through the snowy park today with my hair half wet, and it froze into crispy curls. Now I'm waiting for a turkey burger in park slope. Roy Orbison is singing "It's Over." At the dentist's a little while ago, "I'm aware/ of your secluded nights/ I've even seen her/ maybe once or twice. " I hate human experience, bullies, traitors, teasers, secret agent men, popes, judges, and dirty snow. "As I walk along I wonder/ what went wrong with our love," the pop music is out to get me. I buy dishwasher detergent. "why why why why why": farfisa.


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Location: the place that used to make these sort of middle-eastern burrito-ish things... it was also something else for a while... but in 1999 when I came to meet Gary the first time we ate there... this was while he was still living with Chris Stroffolino... in the room where the door wouldn't close, with his drawings of poets all over the walls and the knit afghan he got from Laurie... anyway we got those big burrito-things... spicy things, with beans and rice... and we got gas, I remember... I had this black hat, a knit cap... with two peaks... and each peak had a pompom... and I remember riding the F train and seeing scratchiti and thinking... there's no scratchiti in Japan, can I live in a place like this?  and how after I stayed with him the first night I was making breakfast... I don't remember exactly what... but there was fruit salad... or melon... in a styrofoam container....wrapped in plastic... from the bodega... and as I was standing at the counter... Gary came up and held me from behind... and I realized I had no choice but to live here... what else could I do?... I remember talking to Chris at the table... he said, "you are intense," and soon after he took that picture of us on that awful plaid couch looking together at a laptop... it's in our book... those windows... in G.'s room... looking over the city... and those well-timed fireworks on New Year's Eve... it's interesting how I remember those few days more vividly than even the past couple of years, not including, of course, the last several months, which I guess I will remember all-too-vividly until once again I am flooded with the hormones of love... I repeat, I hate human experience, we are such machines, it's all too terribly idiotic, isn't it.