Dr. Littlewater, I believe my spiritual advisor has been engaged with your impatience for many lessons now. You met him when you were disappearing under my skirt. I believe the tentative jewels are a bit smaller than a dolphin’s in the present environment.

[1] a bowl of thievery

[2] a basket of fraud

[3] the softly howling war of damp dust motes exchanged for a word once as weird as . . . everything there

The first time you cautioned the delightful crawfish, the signal light broke itself open trying to intercede on behalf of the windows opened out from the jealous horizon. Don’t expect the castaway in the sleeves of a more sullen agenda. It’s your balloon.

1) a hip – leafed stone beneath the needled stare

Place the weight of the potential ideal on the mortarboard on the head on the man graduating.

[1] the residential headlights of matching egg cups

[2] the gills of the lace curtain pulsing

It’s an experience I’ve been saving for my weewee (he was an older man).

By then a woman named Patience had arrived, a balloon rising from her mouth with words in it, the words with excitement in them, the excitement with causal relationships inside. The causal relationships taking entirely too much time. The time taking entirely too much Patience.

She was tall and a little afraid of cheese. This perception as well had arrived in a casserole. You didn’t know there were relevant trees in the children’s bathroom.

The two men say nothing to each other. They think they’re the same man. Tomorrow in the street they will pass each other without notice because they are not two men but three thousand. Two women will pass them all without notice, but they will ask each other questions about what they are missing. It’s part of their exercise to figure out how many will be directly impacted by the catastrophe.

We’re watching to see what the night will do to us. How far do we have to go to get to the sound it makes? Inside the possible thought is a possible head which contains no possible thought.

“There’s a cautionary intimacy attached to not saying such things,” said the daughter of one of the two men. Can she be cited as an objective stationary object? Can she be an object of stationary excitement?

[1] her “snuff” box appears actually to be a flea coffin

[2] her lion’s still digesting yesterday

[3] sampled aliens in the icebox

[4] the heat-driven cry of a gnat

[5] the story of the human finger found inside an ostrich egg

“How then might I marry my satisfactions to my desires?” asked the son. It was the burden of his need that he carried on the heaving lamppost strapped to his back.

The two men were beyond death and still trying to understand what had killed them. Patience, as always, was waiting though she might not have been very helpful.

“Dr. Littlewater, perhaps it was fated to accomplish nothing more,” (the ephemeral tale of broken ice and the minnows requisitioned for utility filters).

[1] a lamb that reminded Patience of her mother

[2] an old man nursing on a she-goat

[3] a different man who had fallen in love with himself with all the figures of speech . . . removed

There was a toy barn on top of the barn.

"I’ll have to do something for you that can’t be done,” says fate without refusing the implications of parentage. Try not to let the outline limit you unnecessarily.

“There’s love in the barnyard,” said the baby bear.

“Sometimes the pig sty is a haven of rank reward,” said the mama bear.

The old woman took to her bed and became pregnant with the moment (her first, she told her daughter) and the father’s teeth were made of eggs and even the salad was made of eggs, eggs eating eggs so to speak, which was removed as quickly as the father (holding the name we gave him out to us like a gift) uttered it so as to keep the household free from innuendo.

Sometimes a family doesn’t like the play they’ve been selected for because they have to follow directions in order to be the right family, which is not the family they are but the family they have become since being selected, and they want to go back to not knowing each other, a family they’re comfortable with, a family which was more rewarding and didn’t get in the way of the other families they were trying to create, which they weren’t encouraged to be doing in full view. And the mom and the dad who didn’t love each other but wanted daliance gave daliance to each other enthusiastically, and the result was temporarily more like a family than the family was. And the children implied by the incomplete dialogue, who were not present in any of the scenes, grew up to be enthusiastic audience members, who cheered at inappropriate moments and reeked of an intoxicating enthusiasm that made the play, which kept rewriting itself in the same fascinatingly dull scenes, as popular as anything just like life ever could have been. It seems to have endured by firing the cast every time the hospital demanded its equipment back for the patients who just wanted to be patients living another day or two. It’s not certain how much this has to do with the melting of the polar ice cap, but several new theories seem to suggest more complex relationships than we had once thought.

The two men known as Dr. Littlewater, seemed then to be one, in one version of the experiment, wearing a fedora, smoking an Old Gold cigarette and carrying a snub–nose Colt (a tight brown turd of a man it was said by one former student, which made Dr. Littlewater proud), and he saw himself mean and other and so loud you could smell him. Perhaps he was shtupping the dictator’s (some called him the dean) niece or had been previously tailored to his grandma’s kootchie hoo.

In the first instance the flight might be unsuccessful and the child might be returned to the woman claiming to be its mother.

In the second instance the application of theory to, “You my pretty little lunchbox spilling out, man say,” provides no further relief.

In the third instance "No" remains a viable answer when you have forgotten the question.

Soon enough there is an instance of nowhere to hide, in which Dr. Littlewater comes out and comes out, and in the final instance, an experience of infinity is mistaken for too far and is not allowed to reach out to its full potential, a situation which could not predict itself. We’re waiting for the meaning to apply itself to our situation before reporting the results. The graves are only consequences similar to misspelled grades and need not be considered manipulative in the conclusions that can still be drawn.