I rented an atelier attached to the flat
of a fading French film star, Marie-Claire—
who sighed, shaking out her trademark titian hair,

The sky is desert blue,
Like the pool. Secluded.
No swimmers here. No smog—

He rode “no hands,” speeding
headlong down the hill near
our house, his arms extended,

My mother was born in a country
whose name I can’t pronounce.
Sometimes she forgets my birthday,

flying into the air
exhilarated and
scared shitless

Jill tells me about the
show she is making

I wonder if anything really needs to be revived.
Mad magazine should probably be dead by 1984
rather than: $2.50 CHEAP. It’s difficult

I read
a book &
then I want
to read
another
one about
Russia

Fresca’s got a new look
but I’m not drinking
that. My coke

She prefers
my phone &

using my
computer
w out the burden
of her life
last night
I described
it open
a circle
she kisses
my knee
its life
that is
my name
they thought
she had
a lot
I think
it’s enough
I mean
it’s astonishing
if I had (his)
I could
feel everything
but as it is
I know
what it is
I love your
lips.