I feel it is so necessary to get
ahead of somebody and so unkind to
do so (and humiliating not to):
maybe that’s why I feel more ex
than dis (tinguished, I mean): I
can’t go right straight down the road:
a wheel comes off and runs across a
pond: the hood flaps away to Mars:
the seats disjoint into ticketed
areas by a theater: pretty soon, I’m
riding a chassis like a Greek chariot
plunging downhill to a bifurcation:
no, I have a lot of trouble with
singleness of purpose or precision
of direction: I want to roll up the
whole landscape like a piece of
oilcloth and take it with me: this
means I encounter fullness: well,
more than an armful or chariot tare:
(I should use an unusual word
occasionally—unusual is a funny
looking word, though (ain’t it):