Last Week

this is my last week at the address I’ve been living at
as a care-provider for a man with developmental disabilities, and
this last week may contain the anticipation of arriving lid
off from a celling of responsibility of shoulders as heavy as the Boulder
town which sits below concrete of the name attached to place the world
of many many in a as diverse as but as various, ant-hills, as possibility
in each moment, a moment within that, to say we are anywhere everywhere
at once is to pronounce the body of the post-modern condition, and no more
hair cuts except for mine, and no more purchasing his groceries, except mine, and
no more running around like a chicken with its head-cut off without appreciation for
anything of the body its activities performing as the end result of his eating—is the
thank you I verbally may never


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