dear mister coke, billy the kid is dead he died in his socks things hiss constant now someone had to take off his socks like father after the long drive from saint petersburg big hands maybe i saw you but a very long time ago i saw you not long ago you were worried when i kept staring out the attic window

i'm not angry i'm just tired that is what it said we weren't even talking politics nobody touched their gods maybe they had become them touching oneself isn't the same as touching someone else it is hard to make oneself laugh i've done it elbows elbows in hands on my stomach it was scary they have laughing competitions i watched one in a red tent on my hands and knees no kneelers creaked beneath us but the ground dug in like a goat-head.