Tenleytown Fix

"Sometimes I am blessed, I am just blessed, to receive premonitions of my own identity--like 'oh, this is who I am,'" I said, forcing myself on the dinner party repartee like a Peugot cutting off a Lexus. And "Like- I just wasn’t meant to wear polyester. So, we don’t live in a natural world, but more and more...."

I paused, and went for the blue tortillas. Dave quickly picked up the slack, and began speaking about a mutual acquaintance’s job prospects. I shot a searching glance to the golden retriever lying obediently athwart the hearth of the fireplace and refilled my drink.

"So you get this fake version. The rest of us, sure, can get by, I’m only concerned about those who don’t accept the nature of reality that's fed to us by pernicious, bottom-feeding media outlets that just reinforce..."

A phone rang. I waited to see who would pick it up.

--Anders Sh. Mandersson

Requiem

Throat of the robin, fried on an iron skillet, dusted in fennel-
But where was King?
Milling the marble, footsteps echo, in a place between death and yesterday.
Knit-browed and faltering to resolve his tumescent valor with the
shrill population, smitten with rebates and cheating the bottom line

He knows they can knuckle and claw their way up the once-geologic incline
What can he do? cut and appear
cots and illustrious blankets with minimal frequency
Now clear the victims away

As the day recedes, he hedges his bets, feeding addiction to the self
of which there are further ramifications, as
events, thoughts appear to him as pixels of a horizon:

I want to be on the dollar bill

--Anders Sh.Mandersson