The red blue yellow tubes of gouache L bought in Baltimore were in the same paper bag as the watercolor brushes I bought in Baltimore, uh-oh, not that I’m going to give up fountain pen and watercolor ink but maybe I don’t have to stain my hands each and every night with them, I broke my gouache duck, laugh!
I am the only Jeff I know.
I meet other Jeffs often
through work or Subaru
service managers who
insist their name is Jeffrey,
please don’t confuse me
with them, I’m not a James
who hates Jim or a Charles
who hates Charlie or a Robert
who hates Bob or a Margaret
who hates Peggy or a William
who hates Billy or a Stephen
Steve or Michael Mike
or David Dave or Edward Ted
or Eddie. Please call me Jeff.
I’m the only one I know.
Should I write about my marriage at some point? Is this
tonight’s poem? It better be. I love her when I’m with her I
love me most when I’m alone. I’ve tried to make that not
true. She is not here with me now while I write this
poem and I will not show her the poem and I’ve never
asked her to read any of my poems. Tomorrow we hike
the Appalachian Trail through blooming mountain laurels
- Not reminded myself lately outloud of my Slothrop allusion, my telemetry and America’s still aligned and synchronized
- Jeff = America’s Death Path! though I’ve been eating healthier and taking long lunch walks, I hope I’ve bought us another eight minutes!
- BLCKDGRD’s coma remains, I’m enjoying a fascinating wave of frantic sparking (sic) panicky zen, a new sensation, fun, I hadn’t gauged my fuckit meters to alert me my damn’s low, dashboard alert on the. fuck. it.
- I link fish for you cause I read what I catch and want to share but ever-worsening duh, do you need me to awooga it at you?