greetings,
day of late december.
fire in the fake fireplace-- real fire, fake place.
two beans
three beautiful letters
fourty-five bucks
and a sticker.

filling my teeth in the morning
napping the afternoon
my father calls me obi wan
i think of my master;
i think of the cold, a puffy coat,
books unread, and the heavy heat
of my black pants facing fire-- fake fire, real place.

as the movie-man in the yellow jumpsuit runs away with his stolen money,
i think and believe, i will be all right for another night.
and that's enough for now.