hey man, the universe didn't start with zeronn'cause they didn't know where to put it so they had to invent negative numbersnntime is a number line with jesus at the zero and two arrows with infinite ticks pointing left and rightnni keep finding myself in the same back left seat in someone elses car on another road trip to chicago, new york, or in an airplane watching thunderstorms over detroitnnand the east-bound short-night accelerated sunrise, is it quicker to travel west since the way the world rotates?nnwill california meet you halfway?nni'm sick of cigarette smoke in my hair, and the grease combed wig i wear at showsnni have no patience for sales tax and shitty neon signsnndeath is an arrow and the tick marks are parking metersnndon't feed your kids dead flesh from the floornnnnyour president is a hologramnnwith his manicured fingernails and a fresh haircutnndanny glover is a hologramnnwith his barrel chest and beardnnbritney spears is a hologramnnwith a boob-job and lipsticknnpeople that believe in hologramsnneat gorton's fish sticksnnnnit's true, virginia slims pays bea arthur thirty thousand dollars a year to smoke a pack a daynntarget says here we grow again as a positive statementnnall these billboards directed at soccer moms in maroon wagons on four-lane highways outside of chicago, detroit, minneapolis, who's allowing blockbuster to tear down housing projects to have three stores in two blocks?nnwhy does the winning world assume we're all self centered?nnnnthere is no room for rococo decadence in this new worldnnawaiting the nuke-bomb mad max makeovernnthe half-mast flag at the park shows proof of mourning nnon a dry blue sky memorial day monday, seventy five, sunnynnnn..died, pulling a fifty foot flag, bit by bit from his fistnnlike a cheap magic tricknnwhile standing in a bed of black-eyed-susans and wearing a store-bought blindfoldnnhe'd be the first to tell you that if you get hit by a car hardnnor stand too close to where a bomb drops in a city park bed of black-eyed-susans, it might just literally knock your socks offnnand he'd hope that the flag's half-mastedness wouldn't spoil your beautiful septembernnafternoon cut grass sidewalk lifennnot even a bitnndon't swallow the knifennno need to say shitnnkeep flying that kite