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I pushed the blanket of
yellow leaves off the cement.
Same as always: 
	they are back!
Why bother to sweep them?
They will rot. She said,
(as I prepared to give her a one-handed massage)
		“You shouldn’t ride a bike!”

And I thought:
“I have to find a reasonable level of risk

telecommuting from Norway while wrapped in a thick sheaf of California King-size comforters and eating only what I can have delivered by trustworthy organic providers


dedicating myself to blindfolded kung-fu jungle warfare hang-gliding.”

		I’ve got to ride a bike, woman!
	There’s no joy for me on this 72 metro bus. It aches like a mistake
like herpes
or a heartbreak

this broken wing
an injured haunch
this crippled thing

I tried to get a jump on Christmas
but it got the jump on me

I’ll be healed about the time I get used to doing things in 100 steps

·	Put down the glass
·	Pick up the pitcher and pour
·	Switch hands
·	Lean the pitcher against my chest
·	Open the fridge
·	Prop the door with my leg
·	Put the pitcher back in
·	Take the Vicodin®
·	Pick up the glass and swollow

I had two chances to look at my tender swollen lump before they wrapped it up in a shiny blue sheath of rock hard cloth making a six week house for a very stinky arm.


nice stuff Daniel,
when you get a minute remember your Dharma Brother and give me a call. I got tomorrow off (Thursday)
have some ideas. A-ron

Pssst.. happy birthday ;)