twenty october
two : thirty-five p.m.

i've been thinking about that painting and about how he goes to work in the mornings and she spends the day dying silk brilliant colors and how he leaves the office and sometimes he fucks her and sometimes he attends meetings where nobody imagines her painting and how it's about him fucking his wife and i imagined the truck picking up the leftovers from that gourmet restaurant off the highway and taking them to the homeless people in the city where they're waiting in lines, standing in lines because they know dinner is yesterday's rejects from the gourmet restaurant off the highway, and everyone talks at her instead of to her and everyone finds something wrong, and the water is running and there are several coney islands.