i’m rolling a cigarette on a copy
of the graduate, to catch the falling leaves,
but do you really believe i am here?
why use that film?  am i trying to tell you
something?  the moon is one and a half
times the normal size.

what sounds like a man yells.
am i even writing this?  i could be a woman,
not nate, plucking her eyebrows,
writing a sentence at a time.
there is a person tied up and fairly unhappy.

shave the poodle and it won’t grow back.
finish this poem in three years
then eat the muffin, it will be good still.

what they are believing in