He said I've gotta have a routine.
But I watch James Franco play Darl
and cannot take Anse Bundren seriously--
Tim Blake Nelson's got no teeth,
and all I see is Dr. Pendanski.
She said she'll be okay, but not right now.
And I smiled to myself, thinking of you,
swimming to the bottom of the lake,
hat floating above the ripples, bobbing
with that sniffling grin, too selfish to say
you were wrong.
He said whiskey was lucky, and shoved
the glass under my nose, burning by gut
and throat for a minute. I said I didn't want
you, or him. I remember the cats outside
my window, whining. The blinking lights
of someone's car. A half pulled down sock.
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