good morning

it was the ventilated night of boxers
it was the left tire home prevention program
matched up against external star-gazed loss
it was the eighth grade guacamole soulmate
making return with receipt (with child?)
it was the ten mile reunion fall,
fifteen minute independence
and five day water talking chewstick
it was the double fat American dirt camp
and it was walking—
walking through town, bay, and women sights
and it was the beach lie on Buddha time,
the homeless conversation hour,
and it was the lust seed in China street.
it was my shotgun marathon trip.