(          )
     'Thank you."
     "Excuse me."
     "One moment."
     (Yea, okay bye?)
     "What's your impression of writing?"
     "You put it here as a hobby?"
     "I believe I did."
     "And, any good?"
     "Would I apply here?"
     - oh, by the way, my name's Jeff."
     "Anyway, right here, yea, right here, you have Place of Residence as earth."
     -I'm moving"
     -I have no location right now. May I sit?"
     -Thank you."
     "So, Mark, what this job is is basic-
     -We had a kid quit because of health issues in the position of fabrics.  How do you
feel about that?"
     "A, for Wage you put a sideways eight.  What, a?"
     "I'm dyslexic."
     -Sorry, I..."
     -It's quite alright."
     -I thought they wrote backwards?"
     -I had to improvise."
     -Oh...the starting wage here is minimum, fifty-cent increase after six months,
and 5% of sales.  So if you're okay with that we'll move on."
     -And you left the phone number blank....  No phone?"
     -No phone number."
     -Yea, but how will we get a hold of you."
     "I'm moving.  The phone is another two weeks."
     "I'll need it as soon as you get it."
     "You put here under references:  Parents."
     -I figured they make excellent references.  I really don't know that many people who
are willing to give me slight views of reality.
     "Aside from my agent."
     "You've been published."
     -I'm filling out an application."
     "You get paid to write?"
     -On what?"
     -Who I write for."
     -And who else would you write for besides yourself?"
     -Who I am."
     -You put here on your application you have a bachelors in english.  You want to work
     -You have a degree.  Why don't you put it to good use?"
     -It's not a Doctrine."
     -What does it matter...
     ...It's not that - I just don't think you'll make a good employee."
     -What are you worried about?"
     -If I told you to do something you'd do it, right?"
     -Yes.  I'm getting paid."
     -But it's not english."
     -I don't...I'm looking for someone to fill a position?"
     "Everybody is."
     "But I don't want that position filled with the wrong-
     "Yes.  I just want the job.  I moved into a new place."
     "You do have money?"
     "It's new to me."
     "Is it in good condition."
     -The reason I'm asking is the to-and-from-work-thing."
     -Not that I…"
     "I know.  I've always been asked that question.  No need to apologize."
     "You've applied other places?"
     "How many?"
     "How's it look?"
     -Same as?"
     -Same as my chances here."
     -It's nothing personal.  It's just I'm trying to run a business and the smoother things
run, well, the easier it is for me."
     -True, but how do you know my destiny, which may be to cashier at this store.  A
photographer or a computer programmer."
     -Why do you say computer programmer - hey can you hand me that, no the the other,
there, yes…"
     "Thanks...You're interested?"
     -You missed the fly."
     -Yea...I'm working on this program...that has, well, it's    a    three-dimensional
game with new pieces.  It tried to catch on in Europe but couldn't catch.  It's different.
Too much change but I figured it'd be perfect for the computer.  I want to try and build a
small networking community that plays it over the Internet.  Call up.  Can hold tournaments.
Maybe three sides instead of just two players, but I don't (reach) know.  I'm stuck.  I'm
having problems moving along X (swat) Y (swat) Z.  I have to learn code on the fly.  I
don't know, anyway, you program?"
     "Some, but just psueduocode.  To limited a vocabulary...May I?"
     "How so?  Code is capable of...when I started using it I found you can manipulate
expressions - use the other one, the swimsuit issue - I started making the game."
     "On second thought, maybe I'll watch."
     "What's that?"
     "I said 'That's how it works'."
     "     "
     '     '
     '     '
     "     "
     "What's 'that'?"
     "I suppose it does.  I'll have to remember that."
     "It flew out the window."
     "And what are you working on now - excuse me."
     -It deals with religion.  It makes me laugh but condescends the world.". . ."It's a linear
     "So you're writing for yourself.  That's great.  That's what matters."
     "The world doesn't agree."
     "The world believes in proper ways.  As does writing:  The Literary World.  The
reader, civility, respect, can't see the humor in their own humility and it's in humility
that I believe respect is found.  Why should they understand."
     "The Europeans hated 3-d chess, but I've found its niche."
     "If it was that easy-
     -The Europeans    nobody will kill for the games content.  Discussed maybe, but
far little will go to extreme of stabbing Body for Mind creation."
     -It's not as if I'm rewriting Beowulf"
     "Are those your parents?"
     "What, oh, yea, in Spain I think."
     "That's the Coliseum."
     "Really, I thought it was where they had bull fights."
     "No     gladiators, chariot races ...according to references... And that picture.  The
one on the monitor?"
     "That's a, well   out of a magazine."
     "She's pretty.  Your parents would be proud."
     -Yea, I need your parents address."
     -They live on the coast.  In Monterey."
     "One waits tables and the other co-manager at a hotel.  The Starfish, I believe.  I
haven't spoken to either in some time."
     "Phone number?"
     -Phone book under Starfish.  Ask for Jody who will be easiest to reach.  My agent,
well, we're discussing it next week.  I'll get her cell phone number so you may call
her any time."
     "Do you want her down as a reference?"
     "Put her in the 'Emergency' area if I get the job, but application, no, I don't want her
as a reference."
     "Alright, no on the reference... parents write."
     "Reservations and orders, but..."
     "Not writers."
     -What do they think?'
     -About it?"
     -What ever is best for me, I suppose."
     "That's great.  It's, a, something you don't find.   Parents can be so...how many books
have you had published?"
     "How'd it turn out?"
     -The book?"
     -It's an enigma."
     "It was done right but who I was writing for didn't understand, and those who did
understand condemned it."
     "How do you know this?  This...that's just not a positive way of thinking.  I'm looking
for the right position."
     "It's facts.  What else am I supposed to think-
     -I don't know-
     -When I write it's a struggle to push it out and when work is done I can't see it any
other way, it's right, so what am I supposed to think?"
     "Who were you writing f-
     "Will it get in the way."
     "It is the way, but of work, no."
     "So this is the whole book-death-thing?"
     "Sort of-
     -And what else is there."
     "Maybe it's being understood by those who it was written for and condemned by
those who didn't understand or maybe it's about disturbed and cluttered images that evokes
reader to turn next page regardless of Disgust."
     "Excuse the mess"
     -Here on Nationality you put 'other'"
     "Isn't a nationality."
     "But you are?"
     "Caucasian, by definition, yes."
     "So why not put it down."
     "It's not a black and white issue."
     Jeff leans back.  "Not that I'm racist.   This is for research."
     "I never said anything about racism."  Mark said with smile.
     "Oh, metaphoric."
     "Metaphorically speaking, yes."
     Pen armed.  "Oh, well, okay, but I need to mark this."
     Mark clears throat.  "Yes."
     Pen scrawling, lips moving.  "What, what do you expect from me.  You come in here
and set this paper down half-filled and ask me to hire you.  It's incomplete."
     "I guess I don't want the job and would make a horrible employee to hire."
     Jeff swivels chair, opens window.
     Mark's posture affirmed, hair straight, a Crow's caw.  "Don't misunderstand.  I want
the job.  I'll keep it for a while but someday I hope to write pulp."
     Jeff taps desk, turns on computer, half blind says, "So?" mumbles, 'Energy Star,'
on boot up.
     Mark straightens spine.  'Then I'll have money.  Wouldn't need a job.'
     Hands staid.  Eyes blue fuzz, Jeff talking more to the monitor.  'From pulp?'
     -I can't quite explain pulp.  But quality writing, I can, I believe, which is material that
leaves you guessing who the author is inside the story.'   Echoes Mark's voice.
     Jeff opens window, waving dust away.  'What?'
     -Or 'good writing' is one constant shrouded by description leaving the reader to search
for that one constant.  If you want it too, but you may not want it too."
     -No it's not difficult, but…you may also try to build the reader up to the-all-Known
and leave them at the-all-Known knowing nothing with characters composed of solid
bases, which are juxtaposed absolutes of who you believe you are inside.  I doesn't
matter, whatever works, you just do it and try not to compose pulp in the process…unless
you want to compose pulp then you avoid every thing Literary and just type."
     -Not in so many words I could describe, but where would we be...Litany?"
     -Know the word."
     -Pulp.  I can't even rite pulp."
     -Yea, but-
     -Fictitious stories laced thick with abstract terms and two sided characters set-in-scape
to ease the mind and please the senses."
     "But there are other cases, such as I, who can't even write it.  One word, even that
eludes me."
     "Your, well, yes.'  Thumb clicking pin.  'Your Social Security Number?'
     'Year of?'
     He turned away from computer.  "Really?"
     "Yes.  That's pulp."
     "Such is the theory:    If time travel will exist then it has already taken place."
     Oh.  Jeff said (one of those languid "oh's") and placed pin tangent to copper apple.
The desk amok with papers, one pin aside another:    cap on, cap off.  Post-it notes
labeled <END>, UNTIL.  <And the geometric anomalous, a gray sheet of
construction paper (shears atop) Pin angled to strike> "Where'd you go to school?"
     Mark leans forward and traces shapes on oak, "A place outside of here by town and
     Jeff peels post-it, covers:     Picture of a child in suit-and-tie, balloon in hand, "Yea I
had friend, Jean Valdrik, know ...
     Mark traced (No).
     "Why would you?"
     Jeff's parted hair fought a light blue breeze.  '…Had hated the professors.  I took a
couple of classes there.'
     'Computer science?' Mark curved in velvet chair.
     …It's the New Wake Inn.'
     -My parents.'
     "Oh, okay."  Pin scratches and reprints.
     Window open.  Crow caught in paranoid jerks of head.  Mark, in absent-mind-speech,
runs cheek, says, 'Where do your parents live?'
     "The city."
     -Money.'  Said Mark, caught in Crow's stare, black orbs aimed everywhere.  Head
staid. Wings flap...perched the widow seal, paint chips to floor.
     Jeff tried to catch Mark's stare.  'Own the store.'
     The writer blinked, pointed to... 'So, you run this store for both your parents.'
     'Yea, it's a small chain.'
     His eyes crossed, brow's V'd, 'Yes.'
     Smile wide, teeth apparent.  'The chain is a Co-op.'
     "You don't have a problem,' Jeff over shoulder to conspire about bird's tweet.
     "With what?"
     "Corporate structure."
     Mark, legs aristocratic, props elbows    at rest.  'No, I plan to write a book about
corporate on a Bias Stand, so I'm keeping an open mind.  Besides corporations give
the artists something to preach upon.'
     'The ones you never hear or see or read...it's where the artists-of-popular-culture
find their inspiration.  Artists are competent, but like that program you're writing:    Good idea,
Bad code.  So sell it or shelve it.  Maybe you wanted to be a manager.'
     "You're saying I should stop writing the game."
     'No.  Just approach the game in a different manner.  Say...crawl instead of strafe
or...hire a software guy, tell him your ideas.  Sell it out right or collect royalties.'
     Jeff pushed back glasses and sniffs.  'But I won't make as much money.'
     'Work here until you do.  In fact the affluent backing of your parents will allow you to
do it this way.'
     'Affluent backing?'
     'It's a constant to build on.'
     'Sickening isn't it.'
     'Yea, yea, I suppose it is.  I'll have to think about that.'
     'But you won't.'
     Another languid, "Oh, come on."  Jeff picks up pin, twirls like a baton, clicks
every tenth rotation.
     Mark relines, twirls frayed yarn.  Speaks as if to self, "Sickening isn't It."
     Pin strikes application in cadence to Jeff's mumbling mouth...New...Wake...Inn.
Says.  "I like that name."
     'You name it?'
     'Sort of, not really.  I gave the guy motivation but I wasn't the one to motate.'
     Oh. (Not languid, but lucid).
     -Sort of like the artist behind the artist.  In this situation I was second instead of first
artist.  Similar to your parents wanting You to choose between First or Sixth Artist.
Because, after all, so many people are programmers these days...what classes."
     Jeff hypnotized by blue fuzz and white text said. "Classes?"
     "Yes.  Your classes at the university, what were they?'
     'Microbiology and-
     -Any good-
     -Yea, he-
     -I had Calvine O'Youliptic.  Retired, as a Virus Classification Tech for a bio firm
based in Colorado.  Or Boulder.  You guess.  He taught night classes.  He was pretty
good teaching the class intermediate microbiology.  Classifications and cell structure.
He'd delve deep into his own knowledge    draw simple shapes        speak Latin
and child like text and mix it by dictating his job            shake head, say 'You don't
need to know that for the test.'  And his notes:    arranged according to outline standard.
Parenthesis, semi-colons, colons and abbreviations were abused drawing the class from
the actual Hard Science definition.  His problem'
     -I don't understand?'
     -It helped if you read it aloud."
     'Then why aren't you a biologist.'
     'I already wash hands ten times a day.'
     'Obsessive Complusive.'
     'I only marked Dyslexia.'
     'Call it: Clean.'
     'I'll have to think about that.'
     'You won't.'  Said Jeff snapping thread.
     'How do you know I won't.'  Pen scrawling on post-it.
     'The minute you spoke, is the moment you forgot."
     -I wrote it down."
     -Which helps.  But it'll get lost in these papers.'
     -Not if I put it on my monitor.'  Said Jeff, note on screen.  The Crow puffed its
     "You have a problem?"
     The Crow perked, swiveled head, beak toward Mark, who held eyes dry, irritated,
said, "With you?"
     Jeff peeked up, shook head, "Yes."
     "I just want a job.  Having a problem during the interview is a bad precursor.  I'm still
here, so no, I don't have a problem."
     "Can you hold on a sec (for the phone):    Yes, yes, yes."
     "Father?"...Last summer's renovation, left little notes in sack lunch, lid of prozac,
Valium.  Father went so far as to write oil reminder on the bathroom mirror found
after Jeff washed hands.  The next day Jeff replaced mirror and coated red the window
seal...Mark removed a piece of paper from shirt pocket.  'Mother?'
     "Both."  Said Jeff turning blue screen.
     'Now you're starting to understand.'  Said Mark.  The Crow gawk.
     'What?'  Over shoulder, glasses back.
     Paper in pocket.  'Which one?'
     'Which one, what?"
     'Which one expresses motivation.'
     Mark clears throat.  "My mother taught art while my father Discipline."
     'I'd say my mom.'
     'I'd say mother, but why her?'
     'Some Freudian thing?'
     The Crow in a stuffed pose.  'Take psychology?'  Said Mark, hand masks face, red
streaks on descent.
     Jeff turns to computer.  'Yea. Had Mr. Peck.  Worked part time for somebody doing
Human Development."
     'What was his inspiration.'
     'He obviously didn't have a problem with co-operations.'  Said Mark, spine in proper
     Jeff smiles, kicks back, eyes blue.  'I guess not.'
     'But that's aside from my point.  The target is what do you think of your parents
after class analyzation.'
     'We didn't study psychoanalysis.'
     "Oh."  Said Mark:    The Crow spread wings in mock descent, took
shape of defiant dive.
     'You know.  I just thought of something.  You mind?'
     Mark clenched jaw, bit tongue and word, but let slip.  "No."
     'Your chess game?'
     'Yea, I've been having this problem with it.  There's this bug and when I compile I
keep getting this error.  I can't seem to find it but...I think the line right here needs a
     'A splat'
     'A question mark.'
     'How much time spent on your program'
     'What is it  April    Two months.'
     'Are you reading books or taking classes'
     'Both.'  Voice trails, 'but more books than classes.'
     'Yes.  When I was at the university I read books and used the professors as an
after thought.'
     lets get back to the résumé.  It says here,' papers in hand, finger indexing, 'here you
worked at Book 'em Dan's.'
     'Why did you quit'
     'To cliché.'
     'What did you do'
     'I gave people ideas I didn't want to fulfill.'
     'In a sense, but I made the effort.'
     'That's still lazy:    effort or not'
     'Even if I fulfilled other things.'
     'In directly'
     'What about...what about this right here'
     ...Leans over, "A scribble."
     'Looks like two birds flying sideways.'
     'Then maybe it's art.'
     'Why not  Some of that art stuff-
     -Is worthy of certain respect. Art is in knowing why you do something."
     Jeff points to the Sideways Flying Birds.  Said, "Accidentally"
     'Yea, I guess, but that's...I don't know.'
     Mark clears throat.  'To cliché'
     'Yes' Jeff clears throat, sneers 'And working here isn't cliché.'
     'No.  It's crafts.
     But who knows, maybe I'm destine to be a sculptor.  It's not out of the question.
     'I do enjoy looking at different artists.  Especially Camille Claudel.'
     "   "
     '   '
     '   '
     "   "
     'Why her'
     -She was the epitome of troubled artist without realizing she was the epitome of a
troubled artist.  And her sculptors are intricate and soundly abstract that you get
caught up in emotional comprehension and visual perception.'
     Kind of, just like, receiving a complement, "Yes…
     -Yea...How was your manager at the book store.'
     'He did his job.  He managed.'
     'Find something funny."
     "Yes, the image of the managing manager.  I'll have to write a short story about that
     'So it is that easy.'
     'Why not'
     'If it was that easy everybody would be doing It.'
     'It's fulfilling the image of the managing manger and avoiding the land of pulp in the
process, which we discussed earlier, where the difficulty in writing lies...   For me.
Others have skills but no story.  Others need a reason why.  Just like that chess game
you're working on.'
     'Just because.'
     'But it should appear flawless.'
     'Yea, great.  I need your new address.'
     'Just outside of here near the Parc."
     '...and...Where did you grow up'
     'Just outside of here near the boarder.'
     Oh really, I spent many a night with my buddies stumbling back over hoping boarder
guards or the local police wouldn't arrest us, but man you could get drunk.  Did you
ever go...no, oh man you missed out.  Some these places would have something
called a liquor stand where you sit in this chair and the bar tender pours liquor down
you throat until you can't drink any more and you're just swallowing and swallowing
because, man, until you couldn't swallow any more.
     'Sounds fun.'
     It was.  This one night my friend, oh,  who was that, Paul, yea it was Paul.  He was a
cool guy, but this one night my friend Paul hooked me up with a liquor stand like right
when we got to this bar (I had a few in from home so I was feeling good and I didn't eat
anything all day) So we get to this place, that had these flashing lights, and full naked
women.  Even some of the girls that were customers started dancing in their bras. We
didn't come with any so me and Paul are psyched...this one chick, holy shit she was fine.
Could have taught her a thing or two back at the pad.  She, she was wearing this small
shirt that was white and had no bra on so you could see her through her shirt and
they... but we get there and Paul orders the waiter named Jesus to get me a stand but I
didn't know this at the time.  I was just looking at his girl and she was looking back,' Jeff
brushes T-shirt, hides coffee-stain, sooths facial hair, leans back 'So I'm sitting close.
Close enough to see up her mini shirt when she kicks up and she's looking at me.  Then
the waiter Jesus comes over, taps me on the shoulder, and I just wave my hand and
nothing happens, so I lean my head back and down comes Tequila like there's no
tomorrow.  Just a constant stream pouring into my mouth.  Finally, after minutes of
swallowing and searching for air, I left my head up and the world is blurred,  the Girl
looks at me and stares,  But, but, I got so drunk.
     'You're smiling.'
     'Sorry, it happens.'
     'Oh no, no need.'  Jeff-says-between-caw-of-quail.  "A...I guess I should tell you about
the people you'll be working with if you're hired.  We here kinda do our own thing and
have a different, how-shall-I-put-this, that people here are themselves.  They don't follow
     -like the color of one's clothing-
     -red and orange-
     -on the equator, sun and fun-
     -but that's.
     "But I mean Differences."
     "Sexually, you mean?"
     'I don't want to give you the wrong impression,' eyes out widow, over quail, blind to
its still posture.  'I don't care what they do in their spare time it's up to them as long as
it doesn't interfere with their job but for working closely their code can, well, it's just
something I think you should know.'
     The crow whips head and tail, lets lose a regurgitated tweet-and-dust.  Mark, hand
over mouth, says: Yes
     'I don't understand it-
     -Either do I-
     -It's just, here, on your application you drew another box under sex.  Labeled it
'other.'  And marked it."
     'Yes' (stiff posture), laid hands on lap, crossed, and starsat Jeff's evasive
eyes.'  I figured my presence would answer that question.'
     'Yea, but I have-
     -Research.  Yes  We wouldn't want to upset the human development department at
your mother's main branch.  Could complicate matters and dig into your programming
     'Yea, I'm glad we're seeing eye to eye.  Let me see.  It's four.  How about I show
you around the store and we'll see if it's what you're interested in.'  Jeff pushes from
chair: one hand in Levi pocket, the other shaking pencil.  'You work weekends?'
     'Yes, Saturday and Sunday are just like any other day.  Same time within.'
     'Good, good.'
     'I do ask for a fixed schedule if I get the job.'
     'If, yea, we'll see what we can arrange.'
     'I'm routine.'
     'Yea, routine is good.'
     'When do you program'
     'Usually whenever    and   you  when .'
     'Until it's flawless.'
     'Flawless  when compared to past, present   and future perceptions.'
     "That makes sense."
     'Constitutes," Eyes on stain, tap latch.
     Cough -Why do you program
     -Just because.'
     "And why do you write,"
     Said Jeff tapping number two pencil against lip.  Wind across scalp, exposed
forehead.  An itch.  Jeff scratched, dug, and continued to tap.  Conducted the two out
of office, down hall, blue room with exit to hall and back, door cracked to bathroom.
Water cooler, table, stained coffee pot in proper arrangement to suit the Worker Bill of
Rights and time sheets, pens on picnic table, magazines, painted expression, Time,
News monthly, The Advocate, Queer, Hobbies In The Room, Internet Poses torn in to
individual sheets, pictures cut, faces altered, coffee rings, felt tip pen which Jeff grabs
runs the coordinates of week, days, names, and hours fit nice on database printout
labeled Time.  Jeff to Mark.
     Mark shook (Yes).
     'The mornings?'
     'Yes, the mornings, preferably.'
     'Well, maybe.  See what we can do for ya.'
     'I'd appreciate the effort.'
     'Yea, brakes are fifteen minutes every three hours and a half-hour lunch if you're
working an eight hour shift.  Smoking outside behind the building.  The phone is
for personal use but not abuse.  Any questions'
     'How do I get behind the building'
     'Out the front door,' Said Jeff, hand on red bell.
     Mark pointed right, 'Down the hall'
     Jeff wipes forehead, 'That's just overstock and storage.'
     'The bathroom is through that door-
     -Only one, use the lock,' Jeff lifts a 'Things-to-do' post-it.
     'Let's go look up front.  I'll show you fabrics.'  Pin right, Jeff left, out door, down
hall narrowed by wicker and stained.  The frayed corners.  A Lamp with no shade,
silver:    base and top.  No light, unplugged.  Above: White florescent restrained in plastic
box.  Skin ghostly in radiance.  Light center.  Foot prints below.  Butts disseminated…
corners and  lamp.  Jeff weeding out loose strands, mumbles 'I told them,' walks several
butts to plastic broken during tantrum over mother and father.  Butts atop Playboy,
Penthouse, and a subscription to OUI filled out and stamped.  Jeff slaps hands  looks to
Mark: arms folded loose, head still, but eyes counting cigarette butts (ten) but interrupted
on eleven.  Tapped on shoulder and conducted down hall.  Jeff muttered something, but
was lost when adjoining-hall-light ON: Florescent white:    Marilyn flowing red
dress, arms pinned to side and flirtatious eyes caste aside;   Marilyn in fetal position on red
satin, legs crossed with body:    Open Action of Near Naked Flesh.  Jet plane flying over,
Blonde hands on knees and dress loose to give boys in trenches a reason to kill
Photo of tender blonde on stage caught in sexual melody, signed:    Happy Birthday.
The picture capped hall.  Jeff conducts pencil left      double doors
     Exit.  Mark caught in worth, said, 'Marilyn.'
     'My father is.'  Jeff deflated his cheeks, scratched chin.
     'I, a…
     'The hard part is knowing when to quit.'
     'My program'
     'Or pulp.'
     ...you like her.'
     Mark shrugged shoulders delaying a yawn, caught up in Marilyn's sexual pose
but lingered only for a thought's span, 'Yes,  in    that        pop                sorta
     'I always liked her air of sexuality.  Have you seen any of her movies'
     -Oh, okay-
     -Not that I don't appreciate the image that she has brought.  I just don't own a TV'
     'Why  Only for mindless people'
     'My last book didn't appeal to the right people' said Mark  aside    with image of
last partner.
     'What's right'
     'What's down the hall'
     'Back there'  Pencil angled to office.
     'The garbage disposal for hazardous chemicals and cardboard and glass recycling.
More of that if you're hired.'
     Watch your step.
     Needs a little oil.
     Mark stepped light on cement poured twenty years prior by Frank Thomas who left a
retirement housing project in Tampa Florida to drive his stake in construction along
the West Coast,  ...sent to the Projects:    small suburbs with one or two hundred
cookie-cutter-homes, three-level-splits with garage.  In 1982 Frank landed bid to build
middle to upper class suburb for the collage graduates matriculating in from other states.
Class to industry, just over the hill in the valley below.  Wife and three kids jostling in 67'
     The houses:    Two levels and two car garage unless Design Specification who opted cash
instead of stock then there was the three level dream with pool and circular driveway. The same
year Frank hammered first form his wife bore a fourth so Frank sold the bid, tied load, drove tire
trails, in all-terrian, over Boulder in quest for a conducive environment for his new child.
     The foundation  poured  his final work...left signature on second step.
     The same year the foundation poured.  The same year the Morrows moved from Montana.
The same year...
     The husband, Bill Morrows, graduated top honors at Pincicola in Electronic
Engineering specified in the field of printed circuit board runs.  Met his wife
Sue Ellen Banks in biochemistry.  She a business major, lead part time in the ERA,
wrote articles for The Daily Rite advocating the hammer to shatter glass ceiling.  When
paired with Bill she presumed a fool and flirted her way to a relationship, marriage, and
living in a small apartment just off campus.  Bill graduated spring of 86' and with job
already in line on the coast they agreed she'd finish her degree at Stanford.
     The signs of Sue Ellen's pregnancy surfaced in Utah, a pregnancy test in Las Vegas,
and an argument in Yosemite.  "I'm going to get an abortion."  Bill, a catholic, tapped his
shoulder and walked to car.  Sept 6, 1986 Bill and Sue pulled to a two level home with
white picket turning auto off in staid silence.
     Bill started work the next week.  Left Sue at home with no car and two months of
     ...She arranged furniture, painted fence and mailbox, lawn...(roses pulled, daises in
stead).  Read Dr. Spock and Jean Piaget, his works on cognitive development of a
human mind during the adolescent stage, set psychological path...And The Gift of Life,
but after the pictures of womb and fetus, ventricose, stretch marks, was sent to the dust
atop fridge.  She started morning walks on the third week.  (Doctor said, "It will help
prevent stretch marks.")  The walks:    three a day, an hour, followed circular out line of
suburb, talked to wives in morning after husbands left for work.  Sometimes on afternoon
cycle she'd pull thistle and weeds.
     At night:  Wives in front of TV; husbands at work; children asleep; Sue jogging.  So...
     Sue spread word that twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays she was conducting
crafts at her home and any wife with obsessed husband was invited, but leave the children
home.  A few wives complained:    No children?  She shrugged and told them "The later I
have the pitter-patter of dependant-little-feet running across the linoleum floor the better."
They suggested:    Move the craft house to house weekly.  Sue sneered, organized craft
and location.  Wicker baskets, toy solders, scarecrows, and witches, turkeys and pilgrims,
reefs and wooden snowmen, house to house the craft circle grew to fifty-six occupants.
Christmas Tree Thursday:    seventy.  She went in labor.  Her water broke on Ms. Tingle's
shawl.  Wasn't offended.  Ms. Tingle drove Sue to hospital over hill, called Bill:    Bill in
Brain-Storm-Session, secretary said, "Birth is not cause for interrupting stream of
consciousness."  He arrived to tell his sedated wife congratulations;   to tap on the nursery
window and pull several faces;   to leave a message with Ms. Tingle knitting a new
shawl in waiting room.  Told her, "I'll return tomorrow...after work."  Sue arrived
home the following week, found computer components on carpet, baby in tears
for its mother, Ms. Tingle the new conductor of Bi-weekly knitting circle.  Sue
breast fed for five months and scrubbed smashed peas between breaks of child's wail
atop Doctors sedated voice saying "It's different when it's your child"
     Seventh Month:    Hillside Sanctuary.
     Spring:     flowers, butterflies, the return of quail dissonance waking young
Jeff in the early morning.  Sue rushed down stairs, medical bracelet snags on crib,
an epiphany:    Two plots down a store was poured, built, and asserted.  The owners
claimed Chapter 11.  The bank foreclosed on all assets setting the vacant store on
auction block.  No sellers.  Black top laid and electronic sliding doors installed
...far past alteration to house or home.  Two months after foreclosure a small chain
of grocery outlets from the east, Shopin, offered to renovate and move in.  They
petitioned, but the community counsel placed an injunction on Shopin from business.
Council claimed reputation cheap, didn't want neon sign keeping them up late or
24hr service attracting a night crowd.  Shopin placed it on market at half the store's
equity.  Ten months the store sat unclaimed for youthful artists to spray expression.
Sue set Jeff in cradle, nipple by phone.
     She smiled.
     In Bow-and-Suit, she took bus into town the next day.  Went into First State
Federal First, signed a withdrawal slip and approached Charlie Swam the loan officer and
chief executor of Withdrawal.  They spoke, shook hands, agreed First State would
purchase title from Bank of US, fix loan at 4.9 over a ten year period w/down-payment.
The loan included stock and two accounts for cashier checks payable to supplier and
personal checks for out right payment:    Swapmeets, flee markets, garage sales, thrift, and
liquidation sales for that little porcelain doll, trinket, afghan for individual antique isle
that Sue thought up between 49th and 51st.  Handshake and papers signed, Sue left.  Bus
ride home:  Think of ways to tell Bill about purchase.
     Bill arrived home after the weather to sleep, drag coat, briefcase, sandals while
speaking twisted tongue.  Pushed aside a plastic 45 and baton.  Sat on couch.  Head
on Sue's lap who sat posterized sipping Blanc Red Wine 69', bought on 39th, two bottles,
on second, hand combing husband's hair.  He went to sleep.  Bill found out six months
later finding flyer at work brought by Mr. Tingle.  Bill shrugged, said, "Oh (one of
those lucid 'Oh's')" and went on tracing runs.
     The store opened the following Monday.  The Sunday dinner of brown rice and beans
set forum for a discussion on money transferred, debt owed, and further outlooks and
aspirations of Sue.  Bill raised tone  (cleared gravey boat)  "...at the closing time of 10 o'
clock."  No dinner or lap to lay upon.  "What about Jeff?" He said    turned  ON  the
disposal, "And a conducive environment for proper growth of his adolescent mind."
She batted a hand, "What better place than a craft store."  He turned the disposal  OFF
went down stairs to solder and map.
     Day 1:    Two customers: ...bought ivory buttons and a Victorian Clock.
     Tuesday:    The craft circle conducted affairs in scheduled covey past office and
breakroom.  The ladies sat on throw rugs and knitted to Billy Holiday    Each parting
with "I'll call you's and things will pick up."  Jeff spent the day tearing fabrics and
clanking tin and rod.  Sue smiled, returned to growth margins and advertisement
campaigns on the cashier stand found in Huninton for pennies on the dollar:    A
transcribers booth used during the early days of Ellis Island, stamped 011010,
government issue.  That and a cash register with white/black pop-up numerals..."Sold."
     The colors turned and leaves danced to the grass.  Word of mouth and flyers at
shopping malls:    Quilted Craft, a break from the rush of Life.  The flyers coincided
with TV commercial between Children of Denial and Love, Lost Love.
     Coupons in Sunday print.
     The birds flew south and Jeff spent days climbing trees for departed nest.  Found
four eggs left in rush.  His mom out back telling him to "Climb down.  You're to
young," between exhale of cigarette.  Jeff in fit of tears, on first cropping of
branches, wailed.  She snuffed cigarette, blew-out  "I have customers to attend to
wait up until your father gets home for all I care."  Bill's headlights spotted Jeff
who lay petrified, four quail eggs in shirt pocket.  Bill turned  OFF  lights.
     Went to door, looked to living room window dark with vacancy.
     Keys twirling, legs blurring, he approached Sue.
     She locked store   in mirth with several customers   Good Lucks in wake, and Come
Next Week for the Thanksgiving Day Sale.  Bill waited, shook head and told her in Tone
that 'Dinner at ten is what he demanded.'  She apologized.  Jeff guided down after
blessing and dinner.
     The discussion for a second store during bird's sojourn to suburbs and Jeff's
induction to Sideview Elementary:  ...Bill's voice flickered candle in concern about his
employment.  Mr. Tingle laid-off and the VPs expressed a possible move and merger at
the company's quarterly meeting, said, "There are still a handful left that we'd like to
take with us.  In the up and coming months we'll let you know."  Sue batted a hand, told
Bill that things will be tough but the stores will provide.  "Insurance," said Bill.  Sue held
fork piled white with rice, "We're healthy." The dishes Washed, put away, both Sue and
Bill spied Jeff meditating before keyboard and monitor.  Sue smiled, "Just like his dad."
Jeff jumped.  They left.  Jeff found Zen after hitting reset bringing life to bi-wing plane
stark against green.  His finger pressed buttons...propelled white dots  in succession
at block numbers  on  monitor...cut 2x2 4s nailed together.  "Ack-Ack" each press
of button.  Screen white.  Wooden blocks   main fuselage   hit...Jeff sets joystick on
sheet labeled:    Note to parents.  Doctor:    ADHD.
     Jeff entered 5th grade the same day his mom opened her fourth store, it wedged
between a pawnshop and a Book Em' Dan's.  Three commercials a week.  Ms. Tingle
managing the first store and watching Jeff when Sue caught up in receipts.  The cash
register w/pop-up buttons severed late night insomnia, hair wired and mind
numeric, she hit "sold" for enjoyment.  Stood and paced.  Ran fingers through hair.  Keys
in hand, door locked, ignition turned, Bach.  Eyes hypnotized by Freeway.  Car lights
passed in streams, yawned when home.  Bill's car missing three hubcaps, parked at angle.
She paced at the front door for five minutes saying, "I think it's best if we move so you
can work for a legitimate company instead of assembling computers for government
trailer trash.  I think it's best if we move to give Jeff a suitable chance to develop his weak mind…"
     Test scores placed Jeff in remedial english, Math and state History.  He sat in the front
row next to Julie Wisk whose family moved into the Tingle's three level split, father a
migrant government worker on transfer from defense depot in Virginia.  Jeff rode bike
daily to class, early, to sit next to Julie, brought her buttons on Tuesdays, smiled when
she sat them in lunch pale.  Thursday's cub cakes.  A smile.  A frown.  She whisks an
eye to John Malcolm, lived across the street, mustache and Scoal ring, smelled of
mildew.  Home, Jeff climbed oak transplanted in yard to spread branches:    parents
arguing.   The basement light ON.  Sue sped blind down driveway to sofa and wool blanket
in fourth store...Julie Wisk and John Malcolm rolled on leaves, caught in saliva and
minor petting.  A cigarette.  Julie opened her lunch pail, salvaged cub cake,
nibbled on end to ensure it poison free, only to, hand it over with eye caste aside.  John
tossed it to Chevy jacked on cylinder blocks, pulled euphoric cylinder from flannel.  A light.
Inhale.  Both rolled in Mirth.  Jeff ran inside, hit RESET.
     Jeff's inaugural day of sophomore year at Plain's High opened with cigarette
inside stained cab of John Malcom's 4 by 4 parked out of sight.  Julie Wisk outside,
eyes darting for faculty, hands tucking blouse rounded by life.  Her hair cut and parents
talking to principle about night classes and a working leave of absence in four more
months.  The cigarettes were finished, cologne over shirt, and pants...weighed
down ocean breeze.  Jeff, the first to roll out and ask, "How do I smell."  She turned
nose and attention to John bent before rearview taming hair.
     The cigarette during the ride home.
     Julie complaining about health of two, stepped out of car.
     Jeff and John waved, passed gray picket and screens loud with age, dogs spiked to
grass,  chain link fence, swamp coolers by twine, 24hr convenient store inhabited
by teens kicking around,  loose, pants   below      hidin shoes and lace.  Eyes affixed,
drug induced, Zen on neon military insignia:    Open 24/7.  Hot dogs, nachos, carbonated
drinks that fizz red, orange, brown - fountain, can, bottle - to go along side sugar,
magazine, gas, or a pack of rolled tobacco, which John orders and relays to Jeff, who
mechanically opens glass door, strides the night pavement tapping pack all the while.
     John motions.
     Jeff taps a cigarette free, lights, does the same for self.
     John spits, "So when ya movin richy."
     Tomorrow the last of his dad's computer wares were afixed inside apartment on 30th
high above park, bank, and French quinine.  A doorman whose gloves remain white
even in months of gray.  The house rented to a family from Portland hired to
operate store, report via web/web site to Jeff's dad managing communications and
technologies.  Sue directing banners, balloons, hot dog stand for her 8th store's
Grand Opening next week in conjunction with anniversary Blow Out as found on website
after clicking on a framed picture of her lifted  OFF  the ground by two hundred chains.
Buttons:    50% off.  Entire liquidation on all florescent colors.  Anything wicker:    Two for
one.  Jeff:    Suit-and-tie for Milford School and Civility Academy starting winter semester.
     And so both stood in neon brilliance spitting code of discontent pondering the one
question neither wanted an answer to:    Who's the father?
     Wisk left before full term.  Father transferred to upstate New York.  Jeff and
Malcolm in different worlds.
     The 64th store opened 16 hundred July 4 while Jeff attended the University.  He found
out logged on to his parent's website.  He smiled and exhaled in a stream that
mushroomed monitor      settled atop page.  He pushed aside botany, Computer
Science, The World Within, for paper.  It was   ON   He Wanted It  OFF  The counter as
per hit:    2001.  Jeff hit RESET, handed cylinder of denial to Frumpy twirling hair on edge
of cot, feet kicking aside pizza box    undergarment.  A message:
Mom:    H1.  He hit OFF and exhaled...
     Ms. Tingle moved from managing the first store to the offices on 49th to head the
Human Resources department:  Insurance and Educational scholarships, and three years
of forged documents and 'miss placed' grade statements pushed her to rupture nails
rhythmically on desk.  The next day in Sue's office she grid the federal scholarships, tax
forms, and Jeff's grades for the three years attending the University. Total sum GPA
equaled cost of water,   accumulated collage hours a bucket full.  Ms. Banks
visited Jeff.  At lunch:    Jeff and friend Jean made bird calls at waitresses, girdled water,
and argued with the host when he insisted he wear shoes, preferably wing-tip.  Jeff sat
across and stared at his salad, picked at a crouton and mumbled 'Yea mom' and 'no
mom' between sniff of nose and scratch of chin.  Jean and Jeff shared a laugh over
cheesecake:    Jean thought it looked like Jeff's orgasm...ate open-mouth.  Sue paid, left.
     Ms. Tingle called the tuition office after lunch.
     Jeff moved home adjacent from John Malcolm, night manager at 24/7 Thrift, a
rival to 24/7 their high school hangout and built next to the Craft store.  Zoning laws
under control of committee:         mill        offshore    sea.      Chevy    Ford          ram
bugs, broken on lawn and cylinder.  The Tingle's house covered, plastic slides, a castle
for the pit.  Ice cream converted white, post eagle evident, flock of worn jeans and
broken shoes passing pennies and nickels for chocolate cone or fudge sickle:    Hide in
freezer behind vodka and peas.  Dad awake.  A scream...On lounge     kid takes beer to
master flipping channels, screams for wife to cook chops and rice because work is at 5.
Need the overtime to get the other car running double as storage for tires and rims,
hubcaps wrenched off under carports and driveways...He takes the Chevy to work, parks
in back for one last cigarette, trash, dumps mop bucket.  Name tag 'John' hangs angled,
loose, stuck behind white, and hot dog to screaming baby and knee-high-child counting
nickel and dime for the 49 cent caffeine drink.  Nametag snags cuff.  Hot dog on
floor.  Child asks trucker if he has two copper and one medium sized silver:    no, the
smaller ones.  The trucker ruffed kid's hair.  Asks:    "Where should I back up?" to no
one.  John out back smoking cigarette  amongst cat and trash  with collage boy Jeff back
from the institution to work 11 to 10 at mom's store.
     Jean at university interacting in human sexuality and animal behaviors with Dr.
Mutt, Dean of Computer Research and Development...
     Under the Mastare Cooperation and between Gardening with Tom and All That Junk, the
Craft Store Inc. Corp. swept fall ratings, Point Five, in specified time slot.  The 128
nation wide stores celebrated their grand opening on the east coast by ½ OFF all buttons
and a guest appearance by Wallace, author of Do Your Own Wicker, who was promoting
her new book Leaves of Sedition, and on a nation wide book tour to all 128 stores
(excluding the original), to give exhibitions, photos, signatures.  To Finish in
September in lower Manhattan where she orders a Martini along side a gentleman of
silver mane.  He finishes his Jack and orders more rounds for both, finger tee-pee to
pick-up cigarette, exhale, "Say, anyone tell you you look like Marilyn Monroe."
     Sue went home, Jeff rolling green in office.
     "Don't you knock on the door," said Jeff.
     "It's mine.  Not yours."  She took the cash register.
     Jeff lit up and held, went up front and turned sign to open, turned ON alarm,
"What's up?"
     "Your mind.  This pop stain, clean, sweep, dust, paint the picture frames and the
cobwebs?  Jeff!"
     Jeff blew out;   a ghost hit, fluttered hair and cheek,
     Sue kicked gum and leaves
     Mark set toe on gum.
     What?  Yea…sure.  That's a weekly duty, one of twenty, they never seem to get
done.'  Jeff's mom stopped by Tuesday and Thursday to chisel comma gum stain.  The
first broke, the second, a putty knife, to loose (rusted) to slide across floor without
fracturing  wrist.
     Mark dusted pants 'What are some of the others...' Ms. Banks laundered camouflage.
Fit to side:    books   crates   twine   metal and oak frames to open the sunlight.  Alcohol for
the windows to remove bunny and basket ready for fireworks and American flags
Sue dialed  ordered 1000.  The welcome mats (fragments of carpet) to the Dumpster.  Jug
of nitromethane rolled by beaker and bottle:    poured   lake and river down isles   between
lace and dollies  mops  she takes out trash and smokes below the tree and its blackened
roots...Bark Kicked Atop A Birds Nest.  Pruning   Weeds   Pavement swept  and tar over
cracks   lines painted and name written   fours stalls.  "Sue!"  She disposed of space  glove
and bucket in Dumpster.  Tin lid propped by trash.  Friday:    called Terminator Dead to
replace traps under register and to fumigate both recycling bins host to swarm of flies
which cornered the Terminator Dead employees   one cell phoned for help.  Sue locked
the door and dusted cobwebs:  How-to-Books.  The reefs were next.  The American flags
arrived Monday and signed by Jeff who opened bags of body salt erecting what he labeled
Arlington Cemetery in The Winter between cashier and door.  Sue placed lace   clasps
cuffs   pipes under the cash register and lay flush the garbage can  full  a picture of well-
hung-male in comfort pose  eyes closed  female delivering oral massage.  Sue lit fire to
image and caste aside waste to pen note of  "You're Fired"   to office door
     Mark smiled  looked to Jeff.
     'What   Oh  the others  yea    cleaning the coffee pot and taking out the cardboard
and sometimes the trash under the cash register but usually Lisa takes it out to
have a smoke.   But if    well    just make sure that every morning  it's taken
     'And So
     This is acrylics.'  Jeff painted a field of daises  a blaze  pinned note  signed it  and
painted "Okay" using oil base:    red  yellow  orange  magenta.
     Mark dusted finger along baseboard    blew Yes
     'Yeany questions'  Said Jeff      kicked cap under shelve.
     "Gemeinschaft to Gesellschaft."
     "What"    Jeff      on shelve   two cans of black wobble  ant carries grain of sugar
A shatter     "Lisa"...clean up     'The mess      I know' said black widow
in pause for false pray.  Jeff clapped hands  'What  a  do you keep saying"
     Jeff combed hair    pointed a defiant finger to 'Fabrics.'
     The man at employment laughed when Jeff objected to shoes and shaving.  Waved
over the district coordinator   Jack Smith   when Jeff leaned back and nearly fell     caught
water cooler.  "Sorry."  "It's alright"   Said man stacking papers until corners flush
fingers inspected edges.  "Car"   No.  "Bus."  "Doesn't come to my neighborhood."   "Where
do you live"  Jeff leaned forward   told the man he lived over the next hill off the freeway
by Mt.  PO CIT CA where he had applied but Fred McAllen told him over coffee and
doughnut   and under scope that Jeff needed a MA   a bachelors in Microbiology
Chemistry   or a BA   and a drug test to which Jeff kicked at a yellow   black strip saying to
Fred that he hadn't finished his bachelors yet but if he need a computer guy he was really
good.  Fred Said "Start Monday" and Monday Jeff showed up with thumbtack of bleach
and balloon of urine.  Pointed to bathroom when the secretary handed over plastic
bottle  came back minutes later    cup warm and coy smile when he was escorted to the
door.  Closed Circuit television.  The man at the employment office said no on the drug
test and lay flat a white sheet with a green-brown chevron atop:    A Major.  Jeff slumped.
said he knew the night manager.
     Hi My Name Is Jeff  etched white on blue rectangle  fastened loose on polyester
green   matched neon military logo placid on chain link and Grills.  Jeff righted tag.  Shut
hot dog pin. Took tongs    looped them on apron "What can I get you" he said caught
in blue neon    dragged conscious when he heard 'Marilyn Monroe.'
     Jeff kicked aside thought 'This    lime neon      well      all the neon    will be
stored in back next week.  A sale    50% off  something like that' His finger across silver
gold  fishnet  all horizontal on industrial rolls 'The tape measure and scissors are over...
Drawer  open:    thumb tack   banana peel   nude in submissive position   tissue
cock ring   phone book   tape measure  'But no scissors   well   they were in here.'
Jeff deflated his cheeks   stood dusting his pants   'We'll ask Lisa  she's a   she'll know
where they're at.  This is fabrics.'
     Yes  And it was in fabrics where Sue found green while pricing net and lace    Sequin
20% off  (about 2.25)  bag in blazer pocket    adjusted shoulder pads    mumbled Jeff
cleared throat  door chime   she turned: Lisa exhaled cigarette.  No customers  but as
health inspector stated last week  "This is you last warning and the next time we'll fine
you" That was last week  and still on Thursday Sue found butts under welcome mats
plastic garbage   radiant white   cobwebs and pipe   behind button shelves filters in
twisted graveyards.  Employees afraid to slip on coat and hat in the season of Orange
and black.  The health inspector placed four smoke alarms:      The office   above
the monitor   behind the button isle   in the break room over the worker bill of rights and
below clock    in fabrics it bellows by window.
     Jeff tapped fire alarm  said  "Any Questions"
     The crow perched seal  'What'
     Jeff rubs.
     'I'm building an idea.'
     'You sound like my parents.'
     Mark's eye boxed corners following a feathered ebony spasm   an orgasmic pulse
feathers falling   dive   descent     wings spread     a streak of silence  'Yes.
     (a caw)
     'Nothing.  What's over here"   said Mark pointing one way but looked another.  A
voice.  Lisa wanted to go home early.
     Jeff replied   "No"
     "She's closing."
     -I'll be opening."
     -If you get the job."
     -I'll need the 30th off."
     "What for"
     Mark paused   taps on window   'My agent wants to go to lunch in town and talk.'
     'She arrives at appointments late so lunch is an all day thing.  '
     'You'll be on time for work.'
     'Yes   I'm getting paid.'
     'Well   do you have any questions so far'
     'Yes   Where's a good place for lunch'
     -But none about the store...actually"
     '...What's your policy on misbehavior      does your firm have Human Development."
     "Human Resources  yea  but it's in town.  They'll take care of your Health and
Dental after six months.  Talk to Ms. Tingle if there's any issues about me.'
     'Your parents run the operation'
     'Oh  yea"  lips pursed  'They keep a tight lid on things.'
     'Do they have problems with other managers'
     'No      there all good.'
     'What do they think of you-
     -As a manager-
     -That I manage      I suppose."
     "Yes  wouldn't it be nice.'
     'What are you saying.'
     'Nothing  Just building on an allusion.'
     'Yes  just building on an elusion.'
     -Is she doing  said Mark  arm to visage of girl pounding silent keys behind cash
register  stole looks every tap    then off to side   hair back      face stern.
     'That's Lisa'   who was co-manager after Sue fired Jeff.  Sue told Lisa the position was
temporary and the hours   with one less employee   would increase.  Recently renovated
from her single room shanty on the lower east side Lisa vibrated head up and down  yes
of course   and I'll move in my mattress   cloths   and shower curtain.  Move the desk in the
office to side   why not    Lisa left for Victorian Design and Upper Respiratory Structure
at the U over the hill   in the valley   at 8 to return at 3 to spend time cleaning office
stuffing pillow and blanket under the desk   tooth brush in drawer   left the soap in shower
just shut the door.   If anyone asked about the cloths she told them she had returned from
dry cleaners.  At night Lisa listened to AM and studied   tuned alarm for a cigarette
which Ms. Banks told Lisa in austere posture that the alarm was wired to ACLMO
SEC.  And any deviation in the 01 schedules would send shotguns and big dogs.  Lisa
smiled every time she opened the door   almost choked on exhale.  For those days of gray
she paced behind buttons   practiced posture   plastic bag over smoke detector.
     ...Christmas passed   Lisa left milk and cookies   ate them in the morning   over cash
register and discontent.     Christmas Day Sale.  One customer:    John Malcolm.  Tobacco
teeth ear to ear as he paced isles   thumbs in pockets.  "He" leaned  ring under palm
saying  'Lisa'  with  L on tongue.  Lisa smiled (earlier that day Ms. Banks dropped off New
Years cutouts and confetti and bickered about the parking lot  a drift  one foot high
almost wrecked Bentley).  Lisa flipped hair   rimmed aluminum.  John honked and waved
4  by  4 w/snow plow barreling down road.  Christmas day passed.  She threw a New
Year's Party
     'What!    Oh  excuse me  Lisa.'
     'No  Lisa"  She said in high-cotton voice assured in satin grace by steel posture  taut
lip    fingernail drumming spine of book righted for advertisement on counter   a
northwest glare   toward customers entering shop.   The book  […the bottle of
bourbon against the colonial cabinet leafed at the edges       a shark tooth to bottle held
against his throat    five spaces for three dots of blood  screaming  "I can't do it any more."
The bottle on handless forearm   bit wife's neck  blood  a trickle  Her hair draped floor in
floods over the chestnut coffee table.  The surgical stitches on Jack's stump zipped.  He
stood    hand pulling wife to and from   the stub wavered before eyes  "The    " Her lip
flutters   red rimmed eyes boxed to serrated file.  He collapsed.  She fell on the hard wood
floor atop manuscript  "Please stop writing  Jack    "…]
     Mark smiled   eyed Lisa  said  'Camille.'
     "Lisa"  lay flat Renovations and Varnish Renewal  'Lisa.'
     -take out-
     -Yes        Lisa    A
     Where we expose the Instant Flaws in Staid Strings.
     To shutter     at
     Jeff fingerinstructs Lisa to take out the trash.  She points at customer among wax
and lace.  Jeff shrugs  pulls pants  hands in pockets  motions to customer  down the isle
of bells and plastic dolls  left a glare with Lisa.
     Pig.  Pig isn't the word Lisa screamed the day Jeff and Mr. Banks stumbled in
Saturday Night clad in Levis and Hawaiian shirts touting tunes of Margarita Vile  caught
in a perpetual   infinite drink   dialog and gesticulation      puppet motions of sadistic
treatment of invisible females that danced bar's wooden floor    too beautiful to speak to
but distant enough not to over hear   some of the things father and son could do with or without
their permission at Dick's Last Resort  and   together   as father and son    could have treated
in that special way back at the craft store among the wax and wicker.  Pig isn't the word
she hollered when the pair intercomed impersonations of mother/wife barking orders    with
ridged back   for someone to dust   sweep   cut and paste icon   a complex of links to
website.  Pig would have stalled on tongue when Jeff and Mr. Banks stumbled in on Lisa
and friend lying together on the floor entwined in rose folds.  Jeff slacked jawed
and silent.  Mr. Banks' pants -    unzipped.  Asking which feminist dike wanted to suck the
dick of God.  Mary or Sue.  Pig died in mind while laughter and ridicule erupted.
     Looks to Mark   hands behind back   puffs checks  'You'll have to excuse her  she's a-
     'Well   not-
     -Well             but                 "
     'See   you're learning.'  Look away.
     Step back  'Yea  It said you worked at a mortuary."
     -Hate the boss
     Smile.  Too many dead people   Excuse me   I quit to give readings about my
last book.
     I thought you said it's not famous.  Shake head.
     Control eyes   The book sold few volumes.
     'Why '
     'The story.      Besides-
     -Yea...(hand on intercom, finger on button, foot on canvas and flats)...Lisa...(a
     -the editors
     ...thieves'  Hand behind back   look down  and...
     Shook head    deflated cheeks   motioned forward    Why didn't it sale
     The book was
     No          plagerized
     What yea    as if interested but slightly restrained as she shut the car door   another date
part sensuous lips    to pucker and smack      the dry night  agitated  disturbed  through the
chain of spatial molecules  between two reminiscent entities.  Unlike the movie crowd
staid heart and mind  (between ticks of hand and time)  exhale desire and inhale the reality
of no moon  no flowers  below the primer sky    shook head     coughed    What about
     It's why they are discovered.
     'What       The readings
     To myself in a room full of chairs.
     Covered mouth  hid grin  'Oh man    your kidding  that had to suck.'
     That is one word
     'You've gota do something besides write.'
     Reaffirm peoples illusion of reality.    To look at the hazel moons distant in a realm of
confusion.  Dance between personal spaces conducting eyes to loose tags and mislabeled
wick    wax marked edible    and runnels of ants attacking cinnamon scent    Mark
pointed   Jeff shrugged   hollered for Lisa to "clean it up."  The floor stained   brown outline
like a lakebed dried summer heat    spread across the isle.  Two tiles lay in shatters   but six
loose   and propped up on corner next to cylindrical molds and egg cartons.  Hands
breached personal space    Jeff on Mark's shoulder upset the ridged posture   a wink
pointed left   but pivoted right clasping fingers in mesh of flesh and bowing head
submissively to Mark's mouth   who paused   cleared throat   and stood on tip of toe to
hover   almost perch above the isles of dispersed ideas and creation all searching for
wholeness in a world of dependence.  Jeff zipped pants   Mark buttoned shirt   pointed to
the wax isle and spoke more to self and the isle than to Jeff.  'Not that I have a firm grip
0n the inner workings of what is real and what is illusion but I do have a grip on what I
perceive as reality and   more often than not   am able to give my perception to someone
else to help their illusion of who I am and who they think they are without them knowing
their perceptions has changed.'
     So you lie.
     No  I fictionalize.  Make them think without thinking by fundamentally fictionalizing
who I am.  Then fiction becomes a part of who they are but only because they believe
they perceived the idea first         as their own.
     I don't get it.
     Not yet  but you will     because    after all   you're the one who brought it up.
     Yea    this down here  is  the    no this way
     That's soft.
     Jeff used a pair of Lisa's nylons wedged under oak desk to sneak up on Dad
studiously painting the hallways in beat to New Age Jazz  stroke-up    stroke-down   dip
stroke-up    stroke-down    stroke-up  dip  stroke-down and beat spread white dots in
hair   flesh   on suede shoes.  Dad hummed beeps and whistles along to the fluid
synthesizers replicating tangible instruments.  The sax   bass   drums   piano  set in
individual studio     mesh     together to hone a molecule stream to the maudlin mind.  Dad
hummed  dipped  stroke-down  jumped when Jeff's masked face demanded  All your
fuckin money   or else  I'll stick ya.  For no other reason than money   Dad stuck in
photographic mode unaware paint cursed his shoe   He kicked   slightly   inches off the
ground and only enough to jostle roller.  The light swayed   hung from a metal hook
and orange cord   snaked down hall littered with printed news and advertisements
Sale at Great Dead Shop down street catches Jeff's eye and mind     stomach drops in dull
pain    Head slumps from roller's crack.  Dad Screams  Look here you thief I'm no softy.
     'Softy'  spread thin on the lips of Sue.  She tapped nail on elbow  eyes on Jeff and Bill
about to strike.  Throat cleared   cigarette lit   she knifed printed news with black stiletto
heels.  Exhaled in the face of Bill    the way she'd done at the office home    company
parties    when out on the balcony fuzzy from bubbles    defused on Jeff  'You fired
Lisa.  Why'  Her curiosity simple.  Sales doubled    the store immaculate.  Ms. Tingle
received E-mails   five   congratulating the corporation's 'Maintenance in an area of
poverty'  while feeling  'safe'  and  'at home'.  The E-mails to Ms. Banks and Tom Richard
head of public relations and chairperson on the advertising campaign board.  They all
nodded.  The commercial aired between 8-9 mountain standard time    9-10 on the east
coast.  Sue smiled  motioned for Jeff to leave    eyes wander to son    father  then to door.
Door shut.  Shouts and bangs.  Jeff went home to turn ON computer   RESET mind   turn
OFF thought
     What's soft    said Jeff    head low   eyes on a cricket.
     Look over shoulder   lips Camille   whispers    Her flesh.
     Yea   Jeff ruffled his hair   stood akimbo   set phased eyes on Mark  That's it.
     What   reverse stride.
     That's my problem.
     Among many  yes.
     Jeff smiled    an epiphany.
     These things happen.  As the light above  a black streak   a single ebony feather floats
on gravity's blanket to end upon the skylight    a breeze   leaves tarnished gold   gray dirt
and stone  tar of pots base  clouds tinged     pool of water    microscopic life    drips
atop  wax roses     cardboard props for 5.69 a dozen or 2.50 if purchased
with collar arrangement of chain and pussy willows wisps   water pools by drain.
     I forgot should of-
     -I carry a pen.
     -Fuck.  Jeff in a lackadaisical slump pointed to thumb and tack   rolls of rainbow leather
stacked to ceiling in triangle shelves.    He displayed the ladder and its wheels   its ease of
motions     but watch for loose tiles because this one day Jeff was high\above/ floor
that was not right  yea  and so this girl comes in  and man was she hot   she walked
around the store for a half hour wearing this blouse that was so     well when she stood
below ladder in search of yarn    drops of drool hit her   almost  but she stood there
anyway.  I was nervous and I didn't want to let her know I was watching above so I
moved the ladder or tried using the shelves  and this tile was loose and the wheel   shook the ladder   and I fell and bang!  Bang
     Shake head   What
     Deflate cheeks   cross eyes   look down   My .
     Yes    roll eyes    sweep hair    walk.
     Tap shoulder   point left   down ceramics  and explain       An end for my thought
well  for one of the         an exclamation point
     Yes   I understood   but things  change.
     Not with people.
     What if         four sides instead of two
     Who cares
     Consumers are more inclined to purchase items that steal creation.
     Didn't        It say you had an association with                ecology
emphasis soft.
     Own a computer
     What kind
     One that computes.
     Yea   over here  (gesticulation)  semantics.
     Yes  you said something
     Are you married
     Rotate hands  No.   I was dating someone for a while     I read her like a book.
     She was     a thief
     -Hey  where you from
     The valley    green  laid flat  smooth  panties  on billiard.  Dressing Room  Door
locked   hand in pants   said  She'll  tell.  He agreed    but danced  a private performance
on stage    to insight    to pose and pray   Tequila  Finals  rub  thighs   moisture   a
moan  on stage clad white T    Hey I.  Tequila    Jeff  Argument at boarder.  Jeff
slumped  in pose    tears  alcohol  fits  hands locked on knees.  Please  Please.  But No
educated  Bachelors    peaks nose to blue moon.   Flip down  finger across mouth.  Lips
part and motion to gate or bus.   Jeff points    says no go home.  Jeff pukes    lady with white
     Specifically  Excuse the ladder
     My mother and father
     point    Needs
     A wheel   yea the ladder   In empty square   Tile propped on shelve   shoe lace shoe on
step.  Knee    on do-it-yourself Tree House for Humming Birds.  Forearms over eyes
damning tears.     Lip shook.  Don't cry   hand over head   What.     In response to cotton voice
(query on physical being)  Cotton   like clouds lay like snow   I suppose   caught in
angelic mirth of Sardonic beauty   hovers there and he knows   the light above plays on
her  image to defy   status   but the voice   That voice above the land asking     That
voice above the phone  child  Lisa.  That voice.  That voice teasing a smile   a faint laugh
     'What's her name'  Demand a smile  feign a laugh
     I think she's a thief
     Yes   Lisa  Because she's paid a third of my managers salary and has the nerve to wear
pearls   gold on wrists  necklaces  like she's   she's   well like she's stealing supplies  cash
out the drawer.  The dress    yesterday   streamline  .  Pass the rice.  Thanks.  Two
months ago this John kid tried to convince me he wasn't stealing Vaseline and zig-zags
license plate Brackets   I caught him   well  the store.        Hey your mom called.
She's nice.  Anyway  tried to    what was I saying.  Jeff.  Are you listening
     Yea.  Yes  Edna
     Pass the rice
     Sure Edna
     'What.  Are you doing.  The tip of Edna's tongue.  Foot tapped in rhythm to pound of
keyboard.  Door swooned closed.  Jeff's liable blue eyes boxed corners of confidence
Computer  Picture Edna tapping elbow    With gold band   mouth in cadence   unswept
lot   lights out   coma  and missed appointment of corn dog and Mr.Fiz on milk crates
behind 24/7 convenience.  At Home    Television   Toilet   laundry passed to washer
which was scheduled to cycle    last night at 9 after news   sex   weekly reading of
Sadeand M.  Jeff asleep after the weather.  A bead of perspiration   tap  space bar.
     'Obvious    That you have done nothing I asked you to do.  Are your cloths ironed for
dinner tonight      with your parents
     Go to a different store  (Edna in forethought but hidden.  Expressed in that sun fashion
when just out of the shower, but disgruntled like her morning eggs were left unattended
for the passed two months)        pass  ashtray     and fire that bitch       Lisa
     (Mark in rearview hiding a slumped shoulder against the reign of ancient tomes)
     "Watch out for thieves."
     Thieves who succeed        Query Everyday Stranger.
     News      wouldn't the person know.
     Businessman outside steel Fortran touting a cigarette away.  Discuss weather   family
news   and talk of children under pass of magnetized doorways    the pawn shop where they
stole the gun  a recent burglary.    Asks Graduate of Ivy What He Believes   Government
should do to increase  awareness and funnel assistance to aid the Common Every Day
Citizen.      Complement Wit and Shoes     Wow   Really  Top Honors   Joke about
Incidences of Recklessness allowing the noose on neck to shut throat before experience
out lasts crowd.  Stop.  Smile   Ask   How would you get away with    it.    Ask
     What Time Is It      When testosterone over embellishes Twins and Wife Opera
     The idea solved with twisted wit.
     No         not I     but the alchemy of humanity
     Not me
     Free of charge
     People are inherently stupid
     'I don't think so
     Go to a different store  said Mark    hand over chocolate rose
     If it was that easy to consider another emotion        and then disregard it.
     Girlfr-  partner    ?    Fuck  someones    Birthday
     My girlfriend    fold arms    watch  feet  pace
     Lucky I don't have that problem
     Roses    leave a trail of rose petals  the stairs  talk in rhythm about antique  midnight
just as it ticks her birth
     How about    Jeff come on  movie       at ten  John and Julie
     Maybe    Shakespeare
     Whips and wax           home you can have            (Macbeth)       sneer  slap mark  chest  Oh man
     'id plagiarize
     Write a story
     No dialog
     'Please'  I've written much better sub-meta-references
     (Jeff crosses chest)
     (Yes )  I'll write it like a rose  never mention the color  red    petals
     And your cant on deity
     A crosswordpuzzle
     The sec-
     Secular  finger    two cans          Satin and Nod
     Pants    hymn    crouch  finger to exposed lid  In hale  Lean  Four tubes    sky volcano
sun rain    mumble fuck shit   Word off lower shelve        Breath  pinch fountain pin    Gray
cotton paper
     Didn't ask you how you would plagiarize the   store      did they
     What                    no
     should have asked
     Wouldn't be thieves if they had asked
     It's still my store      even if
     Even if            What
     Jeff said oh hell  one of those circular oh hells to spin body and stand sweeping
Levi    loop belt to inhale shirt against flesh        Yea
     Should      Read
     I can't
     At all
     No       Well     oh    excuse the mess          sorry     about the
here…no      sit
     And It
     Is right here
     May I
     And what is it
     It's a romance
     Any Questions before we
     How did you come to manage
     To make a long story short
     my wife keeps an eye on things
     What s your wife s name
     You still haven t answered my question
     no               On
     Where you from             what s your last name               for the ap
     no things
     Whore everything   until humanity lasts
     Nothing lasts forever
     I'd rather speak of government
     I can't comprehend existance in a single name
     A little forethought
     Forethought     it's malice
     Presumtious              Maybe                    i prefer to invent my own wheel
     Fuck the world with Words
     Malice            Im sure-
     -Invloves psychoanaylsis        an          Alienist
     indivdual     theories leading up
     to and executed during Anaylsis of the abnormal it.   The Acts-
     -yea          well-
     -of the bastard-
     Yea more of that...
     ``        ´´
     ``yes      hey´´
     you could write a non fiction story from a fictitious perspective and hit both lists at once...and here.´
     ``You'll need publicity                  ...to show your sencerity.
     Does it matter
     You don't have to        you've applied other places
     But       I don't want to give it away for free.
     So money
     Yes        Maybe                we'll see     But remember I ll talk you to suicide if I hear a second utterance of this
     And here?
     here            ` What are you talking about
     ``How to market.´´
     ``Is a pleasant ideal
     So´´            ``Mark                            Will you finish                                                                                          Until you´ve completed                                             my                Needs
             `` ´´                       -Getsetgo´                               `The Job              it depends on your definition of finish´                                                              fulfilled
     sure            but where
     What if some one sees us          or walks in
     Ill lock the door          muffle  voice  with            this.
      No        Bathroom
     Where's the light
     To your left
     It's right here
     Yes    Thank you
     Thank you
     No    I
     Tell ya            Mark
     Okay          which one
     Not        yea     that´s
     Now whisper ``She sent you´´
     ``Now don´t
     ``Trust me and whisper
      -nothing    just                                      yea-
             but        yea
Lights off
move hand
don't push
loosen grip on on mirror
ease reality
phone ring, slap hand, grab phone, answer yes to her coercively
but not to frighten the applicant below
I'll say yes and hang up but slow
sudden movements
A knock on door
``Go up front
``Tell her I'll be a minute
hold shutter
now ``That's all I want                That's...                It:                                                                        -Yeas,                                           and     so       close the cover on the way out
What I'm I supposed to say Soidisant man´´
``Why you pragmatic little cuss...