eventually it all comes into frame,
aging is watching sex
while sex is watching aging.
it is not like a stare down
but there are side-comments made from both.
match head and strike plate
versus motor skills and virtual appeal,
maybe not really in the same conversation,
momentary epitaphs versus sky-written claims,
bellowed whispers versus silent screamings.
these scripts that all peoples, at least,
vacantly first-person read.
you know, the hormonal bible, read in physical brail.
some of these passages, either vivid or vacuous.
sure, bought the book.
not read it completely.
liked the graphics.
earmarked some of the sections.
liked it produced as a series, but hated the movie.
some of the other people were so miscast.
do I feel it autobiographical at all?
please don’t ask me about authorship.
I am not signing your book.
even if you read me your favorite parts.
I think of it all as journaling on my part
and no, you can not read mine as a diary.
please, stop with the questions.
just shut-up and reread your own instead . . .
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