Unfortunately, I have no answers. I am only starting to crawl. There is a tail, shorter now perhaps. Fins? Anyway...it doesn't matter. I can think of a dozen titles: The Ghost of Ellenville; The Queens of Coming & Going; Parasites pt II; The Green Green Grass of Home; Fugue; Wildwood Road; So Many Birds Have Crossed Before Us; The Hospital Whine From the West Bank; A Thief in the Teeth of the World; Blanket Charisma; Winter in New York; Mystery Novel Hero. Ok...now what? There is doubt. There is no way of knowing. I can think of words to lock together. I fluctuate between the Knowing & the Not Knowing. & who cares? I  can think of words that lock together. Is anybody really saying anything? I know that I am still angry. I know that there are new people & there are old people.  I know that I have yet to say anything. I wonder if I am being foolish? I can put words in patterns & puzzles & I can lock them together. If I wanted to I could hide behind them...do you see?  I drive & I drive & I look out into the crowd & I drive some more. If I wanted to, I could take different words & phrases & put them together, fit them together so they are intertwined, interlaced & interlocked. Landlocked. Jigsawed. Flatlined. Bewitched. Backstabbed. Behooved. The travels. The Travails. Distance. I go out into the world. I go up on the stage. I walk out the back door. The Importance of Adam Clayton; The White Knuckle Baby & the Superfluous Man; The Tragic Tale of the Central Valley; Grapes; The Last Cigarette; The Moon, The Moon & The Stars. I thought  I would have something else to say. Something other than, "I chewed my cheek; I stood on the street corner; I stared down motorists; I sold all my stuff; I cried & cried & smoked; I checked in & out & in; If only...this & that;  There was Fresno & Sacramento. So...what is it? What is the new thing to say? What is there to talk about? The Traveling? The going out & the going in? Seeing things differently? The mountain of rubble? The twisted meddle? I can work it out. I think here & now I can work it out. I can start to build something. I can take all of these monosyllabic words & trite phrases & say something. Something like: "This is for my father who I am (becoming)." "This is for the mother I never really knew"  Me. Me. Me. me. (me) 

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