dsm-iv:300.82
I walk until my legs fall all over the ballrooms of Cambridge, wearing the bellbottoms and the yellow jacket, a space cadet I can tell the passers at the grocery that I am from the future. I make melodies on the chain link fence that stretches through the avenues I’ve detoured. The grocery I remember, the blinding rows of tomato cans that spread out for miles beyond my blurring vision, the haze they hovered over the aisles and they devoured all the shelves, begging to be asked why so many choices. The flowers and the neon apples, and oranges, the bags of lettuce, little lettuce leaves suffocated in plastic with their colors and air drank out. & nobody can find the kink that’s wrong, that single abnormal parameter that will explain my whole life & death from uncertainty. & I spend my hours walking, walking...