(          )

     

     .

     .

     ...

     '...'

     ...

     "..."

     'Thank you."

     ...

     "..."

     "Yea"

     "..."

     "Excuse me."

     "Yes."

     'So.'

     'Yes.'

     "One moment."

     "..."

     (Yea, okay bye?)

     '...'

     '...'

     '...'

     "So."

     "Yes."

     "What's your impression of writing?"

     "Angst."

     "You put it here as a hobby?"

     "I believe I did."

     "And, any good?"

     "..."

     "..."

     "Would I apply here?"

     "Well…"

     "..."

     "..."

     "..."

     - oh, by the way, my name's Jeff."

     -Mark."

     "..."

     "..."

     "Anyway, right here, yea, right here, you have Place of Residence as earth."

     "Yes."

     -Where?"

     -I'm moving"

     -

     -

     -

     -I have no location right now. May I sit?"

     -Yea."

     -Thank you."

     "So, Mark, what this job is is basic-

     -Sure-

     -We had a kid quit because of health issues in the position of fabrics.  How do you

feel about that?"

     "?"

     "Yea"

     ...

     "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."

     "Yes."

     -And you left the phone number blank....  No phone?"

     -No phone number."

     -Yea, but how will we get a hold of you."

     -Write?"

     "..."

     "I'm moving.  The phone is another two weeks."

     "I'll need it as soon as you get it."

     "Yes."

     "..."

     "..."

     "You put here under references:  Parents."

     -Yes."

     -And?"

     -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."

     "Yes."

     -And?"

     -I'm filling out an application."

     "You get paid to write?"

     -Depends."

     -On what?"

     -Who I write for."

     -And who else would you write for besides yourself?"

     -Depends."

     -On?"

     -Who I am."

     -You put here on your application you have a bachelors in english.  You want to work

here?"

     -Yes."

     -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."

     -What?"

     -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-

     -Mind?"

     -Employee."

     "Yes.  I just want the job.  I moved into a new place."

     "You do have money?"

     "It's new to me."

     "..."

     "..."

     "Car?"

     "Yes."

     "Is it in good condition."

     -Yes."

     -The reason I'm asking is the to-and-from-work-thing."

     -Yes."

     -Not that I…"

     "I know.  I've always been asked that question.  No need to apologize."

     "You've applied other places?"

     "Yes."

     "How many?"

     "3"

     "How's it look?"

     "Same."

     -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?"

     -Yes."

     -Really."

     -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'?"

     "Writing."

     "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."

     -Yea."

     -It deals with religion.  It makes me laugh but condescends the world.". . ."It's a linear

process."

     "So you're writing for yourself.  That's great.  That's what matters."

     "The world doesn't agree."

     So?

     "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-

     -Well-

     -The Europeans    nobody will kill for the games content.  Discussed maybe, but

far little will go to extreme of stabbing Body for Mind creation."

     -Yea."

     -It's not as if I'm rewriting Beowulf"

     -Yea."

     "..."

     "..."

     "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."

     -Rich?"

     "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."

     -No."

     -What do they think?'

     -About it?"

     -Yes"

     -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?"

     "One."

     "How'd it turn out?"

     -The book?"

     -Yea."

     -It's an enigma."

     "..."

     "Continuous."

     "Yea."

     "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-

     -Myself"

     "…"

     "…"

     "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"

     -Yes"

     -Here on Nationality you put 'other'"

     -Yes."

     -Caucasian."

     "..."

     "..."

     "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."

     -But-

     -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."

     -Angst.'

     -Not in so many words I could describe, but where would we be...Litany?"

     -Yea.'

     -Know the word."

     -Pulp?"

     -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?'

     'AB7-FE-12B9.'

     'Year of?'

     'B1.'

     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

park."

     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?"

     'Yes.'

     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.

     'Yea…

     …It's the New Wake Inn.'

     -What?'

     -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."

     -Specifically.'

     -30th."

     -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.'

     -Really.'

     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."

     'Thanks.'

     '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

feathers.

     "Yes."

     "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.

     "Really."

     "Yea."

     '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.'

     'What.'

     '...'

     '...'

     'He obviously didn't have a problem with co-operations.'  Said Mark, spine in proper

order.

     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

splat.'

     '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.'

     ...Well,"

     ...

     lets get back to the résumé.  It says here,' papers in hand, finger indexing, 'here you

worked at Book 'em Dan's.'

     'Yes.'

     'Why did you quit'

     'To cliché.'

     'What did you do'

     'I gave people ideas I didn't want to fulfill.'

     'Lazy.'

     'In a sense, but I made the effort.'

     'That's still lazy:    effort or not'

     'Even if I fulfilled other things.'

     'In directly'

     'Yes.'

     '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"

     "Yes.'

     '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.'

     "Envy?"

     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

idea.'

     '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.'

     'Yes.'

     '...'

     '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

code."

     "differences."

     "Differences."

     "..."

     "Yea-

     -like the color of one's clothing-

     -yea-

     -red and orange-

     -yea-

     -on the equator, sun and fun-

     -but that's.

     ...

     ...

     "Style."

     "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

time.'

     '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'

     '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.'

     -Yes.'

     "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.'

     -Yes.'

     'The bathroom is through that door-

     -Yes-

     -Only one, use the lock,' Jeff lifts a 'Things-to-do' post-it.

     'Yes'

     '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.'

     'Yea'

     'Interested'

     'My father is.'  Jeff deflated his cheeks, scratched chin.

     'Yes'

     'I, a…

     'The hard part is knowing when to quit.'

     'My program'

     'Or pulp.'

     'Yea

     ...

     ...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

way.'

     'I always liked her air of sexuality.  Have you seen any of her movies'

     'No-

     -Oh, okay-

     -Not that I don't appreciate the image that she has brought.  I just don't own a TV'

     'Really.'

     'Yes'

     '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.

     'Yes'

     'The garbage disposal for hazardous chemicals and cardboard and glass recycling.

More of that if you're hired.'

     'Yes'

     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

pregnancy

     ...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.

     Class.

     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,

So.

     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

of'

     '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"

     "Words"

     "..."

     '...'

     Jeff combed hair    pointed a defiant finger to 'Fabrics.'

     'Yes

     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.'

     What

     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.

     What

     (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"

     'Yea'

     '...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-

     -What-

     -As a manager-

     -That I manage      I suppose."

     "Yes  wouldn't it be nice.'

     'What are you saying.'

     'Nothing  Just building on an allusion.'

     'Illusion.'

     'Yes  just building on an elusion.'

     'What-

     -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

     'Jeff!'

     'What!    Oh  excuse me  Lisa.'

     'Camille.'

     '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

     (Typical)

     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.  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-

     -female.'

     'Well   not-

     -Well             but                 "

     Yes.

     'See   you're learning.'  Look away.

     Step back  'Yea  It said you worked at a mortuary."

     -Yes.

     -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

reply)....now.

     -the editors

     What'

     ...thieves'  Hand behind back   look down  and...

     Shook head    deflated cheeks   motioned forward    Why didn't it sale

     ...

     …

     It

     yea

     it

     Yes

     …

     ...

     The book was

     Theófthe

     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

thieves

     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

     What

     An...

     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.

     Money.

     Yes

     Didn't        It say you had an association with                ecology

emphasis soft.

     Yes

     Well

     '…'

     Own a computer

     Yes

     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.

     Yea

     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

hair

     Specifically  Excuse the ladder

     Yes

     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

     'Edna'

     'Thieves'

     What

     I think she's a thief

     Edna

     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

     "No'

     '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.

     Jeff.

     Yea.

     Thieves'

     'Yea'

     'Obvious    That you have done nothing I asked you to do.  Are your cloths ironed for

dinner tonight      with your parents

     Yea

     Jeff

     Yea

     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."

     'Yes

     …

     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.

     Steal

     No         not I     but the alchemy of humanity

     Not me

     Free of charge

     Suspected

     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

     What

     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

     Talking

     No dialog

     "oh

     'Please'  I've written much better sub-meta-references

     Just

     whisper

     Yea

     nothing

     (Jeff crosses chest)

     (Yes )  I'll write it like a rose  never mention the color  red    petals

     And your cant on deity

     A crosswordpuzzle

     …

     …

     deity

     

     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

     Should

     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

     Yes

     Yea

     Yes

     And It

     Is right here

     May I

     Yes

     And what is it

     It's a romance

     

     

     Oh.

     

     

     

     Any Questions before we

     

     

     How did you come to manage

     

     

     To make a long story short

     Preferably

     my wife keeps an eye on things

     

     

     What s your wife s name

     Edna

     

     You still haven t answered my question

     

     

     no               On

     Things

     

     Where you from             what s your last name               for the ap

     It

     no things

     Whore everything   until humanity lasts

     Apocoliptic

     Realist

     

     

     

     Nothing lasts forever

     

     

     Religion

     I'd rather speak of government

     Box

     

     

     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´´

     ``...´´

     ``...´´

     ``yes      hey´´

     ``...´´

     ``you

     ...

     you could write a non fiction story from a fictitious perspective and hit both lists at once...and here.´

     ``but´´

     ``You'll need publicity                  ...to show your sencerity.

     Does it matter

     No

     

     

     You don't have to        you've applied other places

     Yes

     Yea

     

     

     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.´´

     ``Indirectly´´

     

     

     `Yes?

     

     

     ``Tradition´´

     ``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

     here.

     Here.

     Yea

     But

     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

     What

     It's right here

     Yes    Thank you

     

     Yes

     

     Thank you

     No    I

     but

     

     please

     Tell ya            Mark

     

     Yes

     

     For?

     

     

     Okay          which one

     Both

     

     

     

     Not        yea     that´s

     

     Now whisper ``She sent you´´

     

     

     

     ``Who

     

     ``Now don´t

     ``Trust me and whisper

     

     

     What´s-

      -nothing    just                                      yea-

     -Yes-

             but        yea

     .

     

     

     Now

     

     

     Yes

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

but

I'll say yes and hang up but slow

no

sudden movements

lean

back

breath

A knock on door

``Lisa

``Go up front

``Tell her I'll be a minute

four

hold shutter

yes

now ``That's all I want                That's...                It:                                                                        -Yeas,                                           and     so       close the cover on the way out