(This is not a poem, I wrote it in my notebook and it has to look this way, the columns have to be narrow.)

One survives as a matter
of course. This is not up for
discussion. Birds in the background,
they I like. No cause for
concern. But a woman’s voice
is different. It goes farther.
And so what is a.

In the times when I was
young I was much the same
as now. As enclosed and
quietly friendly. A man once
said to me Beautiful it was
when I was a child. Now it
is a tragedy.

Superfluous he said. Those
girls. I think I came to the
park. Yes of course, and
there are people everywhere.
Dutching about the day.
Not particularly exasperated.
What would it be to be the
same.

The girls I said, I
think I smirked. It was
after the store where I bought.
I came out and twigged my
legs then. Whatever that means.

Licentiates one and all.
Sometimes correct and sometimes
mistaken. As a matter of
course. And so when I
looked back I said school
girls when actually they were
the approach. I was too
fixated then. Too earnest
to attract, to make a good
show. Christ. It wasn’t
what he said that made
him so.

And so what is a. Yes
many people here and flowers
too. And one over there.
Is she. But behind glasses.
Always! These and the
barbers where they go and
in the windows idealimages
and then they come out and
they are ready to. The night to.
Out and they go there to.

Is she, I swear. Look away.
There are birds in the trees,
it is not a cloudy day. “Well
hello, yes, it was indeed
and so, no go on, ah well
yes certainly it is, but, oh
well you see, ah me too!”

Yes it is certain she. And
so what is, and yes I
do not mind. I rejoice
in admixture. She is looking.
I am certain. You know
this now; remember.

As a matter of course. I
came here well I know not what
for. To sit and be stilled.
It was the shake, it was
mad on the street where
the approach and. All
licentiates, one and all, all
just only. She again. Christ.
I am not prurient she is
looking. All just only making
an argument for. But I am
getting hungry now.