Hooked in being hooked, harpooned by my own dreams. Ink, ink, ink,
I’m reminded. Can’t I just go
To Cannery Row? And stay there,
Write till they realize I’m not clocking
Back in? Asking how I equalize
My pushes to something bound.
No answer. That’s fine. I’m out of my
Bracket. Exempt from self-taxing.
Even though the whole thing has been
Taxing. Too old to test in any new training. Bored from my own lectures.
Bubbles in glass, housed in a crass
Hat. Shielded from doings bringing unknown ingredients. Me, far outside obedience.