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stands for the question the one that has ran away from your brain looking for the woman you have lost she exists in this other world it could be purely illusion we all escape into another world from time to time it is ok to let go and relax let your mind go there is always the possibility that you could become lost forever we are all a little lost once you have crossed over the surface of an unknown asteroid it might be possible to reach speaking of being tossed are you tossed salad a flag or a beach blanket bouncing ball which one are you behind door number two in a play ground with virtual guarantees given time to grow the ghosts of cats and crows the most experimental controversial contemplative reflective refractive light source pontificator of the highest honor and of a sound mental beating bloated and puffed up beyond recognition inhabiting the labial zone seek and ye shall find brown mouse broken and betrayed being of two minds left brain and right brain on the world’s stage hark who goes there it might be a ghost of our king and then we have more blunders more lies more cock waggling in the face of democracy an allegorical world constructed from your childhood symbols moon pie surrendering to the phalanges that is right honey take all the words out make them more real fro you any way you can cough and scratch run up the stairs and spin around she was lola in white socks receiving your email and trying to respond but I got lost she could be you could be we all never was not now not ever it was just a big joke to you until she peeled your shin back over the front of your face too sensitive really I never would have guessed this is a warning to all the young minds think more than you talk live before you decide to jump off a bridge stop putting poisons in your body that was for the old fucks a taste for postmodern fiction I don’t know what that means do you can you hear me do you understand the rules the rules the rules all work and no play make jack Nicholson what not a character you can sympathize with one hundred red percent realistic made up my mind red in the head complicated and hard to follow Kafka with his one hundred chakras sad demeanor with the shuffling feet defeat in bodily form metamorphosis Thursday morning nine in the am oh my goodness in the morning paper he wanders from person to person to show off his newspaper article ignoring that fact that he should be teaching his students how to think god forbid a the little weasels tearing my flesh on your honeymoon hello sister how are you today one of my best friends and she told her husband  turning them into junkies that is what john Irving said I never would have said the options there are no options I am not bring you options I am not your waiter so do not speak to me I’m still waiting for your dream voice mixing the alcohol with the downs might have been a mistake you think about it and get back to me in 100 words or less a conversation we have or should have had I don’t know I don’t remember what she wants how to think god forbid you and I need so many things connecting one piece to another I made the cocktails and I made the sandwiches surprised and kind of embarrassed Zelda was the first reader living in the US as a stranger it was because of that strangeness observing people and the world out jumps the frogs from the airplane I couldn’t stop and again with this Dostoevsky thing first Miller then Murakami the conspiracy goes on and on reading