Conveniently suburban prostitute, well-groomed, teeth intact? False. Primary ignorance, nothing primordial, except the sludge of wasted minutes irretrievably spent.

Pennies in a fountain were at least wishes and not pimply teenage fantasy.

Except for the water,

They don't float, just watered-down, horny whitebread tomfoolery.

Pancreatic, fumiliar scentiment. Redundant.

How do you chasm truth? You meek it; that's all. I curse the day I ever met that 8-fingered freak. The over-sized spoon; the baseball cap - it tells you he can't possibly understand.

This is your body. (dancing badly in soiled briefs and sunglasses)

This is your tombstone. (STDs and philanthropic abortions)

White picket fence hides herpes, lesions, erosion in the cloth of memory. Nothing is actual, clownish caricatures trump reason, reality. Let them rot with syphilis, so I can pretend I learned anything.