a streak in the sky. some say the plane is part of a government conspiracy. i wonder where they’re heading—not the aircraft, but its passengers. this was easier in mar vista, closer to LAX, where the altitude & any directional change would be quite revealing. here each flight out has ascended & even the buildings are obscured to any eyes above affixed to what they’re leaving behind. there is no reason to think anything of los angeles now—perhaps there never was.

i’ve slipped on my lists, my writings. this chameleon of a world is full of predators & i am just sitting on the stoop, trying to enjoy my tea, thinking too much about caffeine. i guess it’s better than whiskey. the archive of my temptations is an extensive bibliography & my misdirection will continue, but hopefully just as footnotes. one day at a time. i’ve remembered how to write in verse once again. the rest i have yet to re-learn with these shaking, but not yet broken, hands.