THE WORD ''LOST'' is like a bottle cap in my stomach.
Curled up on a flattened cardboard box is the
Right thing to do. I should have eaten the rotten
Part of the mango first, now that I think of it.

The movie was obvious and dull. I sat through it.
Agony. Hundreds waited outside to see it a second time.

At least the red flower is not real. At least
All the other red flowers, each in a tiny vase,
On all the other 1 and ½ person tables,  are not real.

Where did this book I am reading come from?
Each page is like consuming warm yogurt with a plastic spoon
(the walls of this place a riot of paper mache ideas
That must be very difficult to dust): raspberry or warthog?

You wonder sometimes -- is the tasteless poison
Being administered by the yogurt or by the spoon.